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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28721100">death by diamonds and pearls</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/something_safe/pseuds/gleamingandwholeanddeadly'>gleamingandwholeanddeadly (something_safe)</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/printersdeadly/pseuds/printersdeadly'>printersdeadly</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaysgone/pseuds/printersdevils'>printersdevils (tuesdaysgone)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bottom Hannibal, Bottom Will, Breathplay, CW: alcohol, Hannibal Lecter is a serial killer, Hannibal Lecter likes buying pretty things, Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham - Freeform, Hannigram - Freeform, Knife Play, M/M, Oral Sex, Penetrative Sex, Sex Worker AU, Sugardaddy dynamics, Tension, They Flip, They-meet-earlier-in-life-AU, This is not Pretty Woman, Thriller, Top Hannibal, Top Will, Will Finds Out, Will Graham is a little shit, Will Graham is a sex worker, Will and Molly are roommates, Will doing the I'm in danger bit from the simpsons, You do the math, and the usual attitude toward sex workers being employed, because Hannibal, but not by the main characters, cw: descriptions of crime scenes (brief), cw: murder, cw: some sleazy ass behaviour toward sex workers, cw: threatened assault, manual sex, mention of other serial killers at work, mention of sex workers being murdered, sugarbaby dynamics, who maybe considered dating but it's probably good they didn't</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:13:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>20,716</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28721100</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/something_safe/pseuds/gleamingandwholeanddeadly, https://archiveofourown.org/users/printersdeadly/pseuds/printersdeadly, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaysgone/pseuds/printersdevils</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Will is working a party of lawyers at the opera when Hannibal Lecter spots him. A game of cat and mouse ensues, but it soon becomes clear to Will that he's up against more than just a common house-cat.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Molly Graham &amp; Will Graham, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>381</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>death by diamonds and pearls</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/solamentenic/gifts">solamentenic</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is entirely a work of fiction, and the shitty attitudes folks have toward sex workers in this are a plot device and certainly not our view! Sex workers being dehumanised by both perpetrators and police is something we're very much aware of and it's something we were keeping in mind here. </p><p>Off the back of that, we're going entirely off media representation of how sex workers conduct their business and it's probably wildly inaccurate so please excuse us, and let us know if there's anything you want to discuss, as always. </p><p>Also: everyone is a disaster in this except Molly, you've been warned. If you were after sweet baby Will, this probably isn't the fic for you. 😉</p><p>Love, </p><p>L &amp; D xoxo</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Intermissions spent in the opera house bar are often areas of interest for Hannibal Lecter, even outside of his usual circles. There are so many pockets of activity amongst the delicate columns, beneath the glittering chandeliers, sin hidden in the corners like shadows. Hannibal likes to see them all. He's been accused of voyeurism a few times, though amusingly enough in his professional life, not his personal. It's part and parcel - peeking into peoples' minds is almost easier than peeking into their lives. And now, he has the invisibility of the well-dressed and well-mannered.</p><p>Tonight, he lingers over an Old Fashioned at the bar as he watches a band of men and women in the corner. It's hard to repress a sneer. They're <em>not</em> especially well-mannered.</p><p>Within the fray of their constant motion, though, there's a point of complete stillness. It draws the eye, that diamond point. Pale blue eyes in a fair-featured face, a strong jaw and wild curls. A young man sits perched on the arm of one of the chic leather couches, wearing a slightly too-big suit. It seems more like a fashion statement than a faux pas, his delicate ankles exposed, a tantalising diamond of skin visible on his chest where it’s unbuttoned by several inches.</p><p>It's not Hannibal's fashion, of course, but he admits it looks well on him. The young man has the haughty air of a model, but the kiss of sun on his nose and cheeks is evidence of outdoor work; the hot South, perhaps. How he's made his way here to the Opera House is worth a moment of consideration. Barely acknowledging the gossip of his peers, Hannibal drifts closer, lingering in the shade of one of the columns.</p><p>Only a few seconds' study reveals the reason: the hand of one of the men on his thigh, intimate considering the stiff body language the young man gives off. Very high on his thigh, as it happens. Hannibal transfers his attention to the other man.</p><p>Good looking, clearly wealthy, but with an unsmiling mouth. He glances up at the boy regularly. And when he mutters to him, finally seems to get his attention. He looks down from his perch on the arm of his chair, something disdainful in the angle of his mouth.</p><p>Hannibal is a bit surprised by the avid flash in his companion's eyes. He says something sharp, and the boy sighs and stands. Hannibal sips, and watches.</p><p>The boy leans over his critic, bending to get in his space, and whispers. It's plain what the subject is: the man accompanying him immediately reaches into his pocket; takes out his wallet. Sugar baby? Hannibal muses. Or a professional? Either possibility is intriguing.</p><p>Usually, in his experience, gold diggers work harder. No, the lovely boy is a professional. Hannibal wonders if the permanently curled lip is what his clients like about him. It's a distinct possibility. It takes all kinds, after all, and his countenance is certainly one of the things Hannibal is drawn to.</p><p>When he leaves a moment later, Hannibal strolls after him. The washroom is empty but for the stranger when Hannibal gets inside, and he's zipping himself up and moving to the basins to wash his hands. Hannibal allows their eyes to meet - itself a difficult proposition - and nods politely. The boy just raises his eyebrows at him in the mirror, half challenging. Hannibal meets it evenly. Close up, he's not quite a boy, but Hannibal wouldn't put him at anything more than twenty-two or three. But he is every bit as lovely as he'd appeared from across the room.</p><p>"What?" The boy says, not entirely combative but not precisely friendly, either.</p><p>"Are you enjoying the opera?" Hannibal replies.</p><p>A slight scoff at that. "Sure."</p><p>"Puccini is not for everyone. Perhaps one more trip to the bar?"</p><p>“Are you suggesting, or asking?”</p><p>The stranger turns to look at him now, balancing against the lip of the basin. He looks shrewd. But before he can open his mouth to reply, the door bangs open and another man staggers in – not the attractive, sleek wolf of a man from the leather couch, but a paunchier, balder specimen who looks old beyond his years. The bald patch on the top of his head is pink, shining with sweat.</p><p>"There you are, Will," he says to the stranger at the sinks.</p><p>"Did he decide I needed a bathroom escort?" the boy – Will - hisses.</p><p>"He told me I should check out your form, actually." The newcomer lurches closer. "Come on, little boy. My money's as good as his."</p><p>That earns him the baring of Will’s teeth. "Your manners are somewhat lacking, though."</p><p>"You can't spend manners, you little slut," the drunk growls.</p><p>"And <em>you</em> can't spare them, it seems."</p><p>“My money not as good as Jennings', huh?”</p><p>“Oh yeah, it’s your lack of money that’s putting me off,” Will smiles, a little cruelty there in the dark space between fang and snarl, “not the fact you’re a total pig.”</p><p>“You little cocksucker-”</p><p>Hannibal steps in when he sees a meaty fist swinging. He catches it.</p><p>"That's enough.”</p><p>“Who the fuck are you? Let go, primo, or I’ll make you wish you had.”</p><p>“The gentleman has made himself clear. There’s no need for violence, I’m sure some more of your entourage will be happy to oblige you.” He keeps his voice low and even, holding the man’s gaze. “It would a shame for you to be banned from the establishment, there is a wonderful rendition of Don Giovanni circuiting next month, I would hate for you to miss it."</p><p>"Gentleman," the drunkard snickers, but he’s calming, probably sensing he wouldn’t come out better off in a fight with a sober man with half a foot on him.</p><p>Firmly but politely, Hannibal steers him unceremoniously to the door and through it, then locks it neatly. He would have liked to do more, but he'd rather not draw more attention to - Will. The drunk will lose interest. Will, however, has not. His head is tilted, blue eyes narrowed.</p><p>"I apologize, since he will not," Hannibal murmurs. "That was terribly rude."</p><p>"I'm used to it, though usually no one intervenes."</p><p>"I have the privilege to be able to intervene without incident," Hannibal replies with a shrug.</p><p>"You mean you were confident you could take him?" A smirk at that.</p><p>"Do I sense skepticism, Will?"</p><p>His face changes at that. "You don't know me."</p><p>"A state of affairs I would be willing to change."</p><p>"An introduction would be polite then."</p><p>Hannibal inclines his head. "Doctor Hannibal Lecter. A pleasure."</p><p>"It might be. Will." He offers a hand.</p><p>Hannibal shakes it, his grip firm and warm. "I will make it my mission."</p><p>Will smirks. "My calendar is very full, Doctor."</p><p>"Worth the wait, I've no doubt."</p><p>The pink lips curve. "I hope you don't think flattery will buy you preferential treatment, Doctor Hannibal Lecter."</p><p>"Or your preferred compensation."</p><p>"Think Benjamin Franklin."</p><p>"Very well. May I have your number, Will?"</p><p>A little smile at that. Will glances at them both in the mirror like he's weighing up how they look together. "Hm, no, I don't think so."</p><p>"No?" Hannibal murmurs.</p><p>"No pleasure in that, is there? Like making a dentist appointment."</p><p>Hannibal should be annoyed. But instead, he feels a curl of anticipation as Will steps into his space; curls a hand around his tie.</p><p>"I think it would be more fun if you try to find me, don't you?" he whispers into Hannibal's ear, breath hot and whiskey-scented.</p><p>Hannibal takes a breath. The boy's own scent mixes with the whiskey and an unpleasant cologne, probably his client's. "It's a big city."</p><p>"But you're a doctor, aren't you? I'm sure you can figure it out."</p><p>"If you wish it, I will."</p><p>"I do." He pulls back enough so Hannibal can see a flash of pale eyes.</p><p>He can't help but smile. Will echoes it, slow and dirty.</p><p>"Then I wish you good evening, Doctor Hannibal Lecter. Thanks for the… help."</p><p>His eyes flick up and down shrewdly, one last time. Then he's gone, and Hannibal takes a moment alone. He's never been set a quest before. It's surprisingly tantalizing. He thinks his new acquaintance knows that.</p><p>"Cunning boy," he tells his after-image, and then he heads back to his box.</p><p>He sees Will again, briefly, in another box across the theatre. He's sat with a girl amongst the men who Hannibal assumes are his clients. Hannibal inspects the girl he's with, with the aid of his opera glasses. Blonde, pretty, ordinary-looking but for her revealing outfit. She and Will occasionally catch one another's eyes, like they're checking in. Both working the party, clearly. Hannibal resolves to see if he can't find out who's bought out that particular box – he thinks he heard the drunk man call someone Jennings. Will was right - he has the resources, and the wherewithal. He's never minded a game. In fact, he prefers them.</p><p>It starts when he leaves the opera house, watching for Will among the crowd, though this time without success. Perhaps that would have been too easy. Doubling back to ask at the box office who rented the box opposite his seems fairly easy too.</p><p>He stops at the desk and smiles warmly at the middle-aged woman in black who sits by the computer. "I'm sorry to interrupt," he says smoothly, "but as I was walking by Box Thirty-Five, I saw this pair of glasses left on the floor. Do you think you could check who reserved it?"</p><p>"Of course, Doctor Lecter."</p><p>He rewards her with a smile. It is nice, to be known. "Not that your lost and found isn't first rate, Dolores, but I prefer the personal touch."</p><p>"I completely understand, you might know the gentleman - a Mister Jennings?"</p><p>He doesn't, but that doesn't mean he doesn't know how to find out. "My compliments, Dolores. Might you have an address to which I can forward these?"</p><p>"Just between you, me, and the wall," she says, voice going solemn.</p><p>"On my honor."</p><p>She writes something on a post-it note and hands it over with a barely-there smile. Tucking it into his breast pocket, Hannibal heads out to his car. He turns off the recording of <em>Tosca</em> he'd been playing on the way into the city, and turns on Verdi instead.</p><p>He's feeling energized. Then he thinks better of it and thumbs the voice command button instead. The Bentley sings softly in acknowledgment and he tells it, "Call Elaina Komeda."</p><p>The phone rings, and is shortly answered. "Hannibal! How wonderful to hear from you."</p><p>"I hope it's not too late," Hannibal murmurs. "I'm on my way home from the opera, and of course I thought of you."</p><p>"You know me, I burn the midnight oil. I'm working on a new sculpture, as it happens. Tell me, what did you think of?"</p><p>"Well; how you know everyone at the opera, of course."</p><p>"Oh, so you want to pick my brain. Go on then."</p><p>"Man named Jennings, dear Elaina. What do you know?"</p><p>"Carl Jennings? He's a lawyer."</p><p>Of course. "I see. Anything else?"</p><p>"Not a very pleasant soul, he was recently divorced after his wife found him ah, giving the secretary a bonus." She pauses. "The male secretary, not that I judge of course, Hannibal!"</p><p>"Nor do I," Hannibal answers politely. "But it seems it was a surprise to his wife."</p><p>"Hah! Lora Jennings held the whip hand in that relationship for sure, <em>if</em> you take my meaning," Elaina titters. "I'm surprised he had the spine."</p><p>"Not to confess, it seems."</p><p>She chortles again. "My, Hannibal. You're talkative tonight."</p><p>"I often am at night. I met a gentleman in his company, and he intrigued me."</p><p>"I hope it won't offend you if I say I'm surprised."</p><p>"I'm more curious than offended."</p><p>"As expected, I suppose," she drawls. "I only mean, Hannibal, that Jennings' set doesn't seem like your cup of tea."</p><p>"Normally I would agree with your impeccable instincts, Elaina."</p><p>"Well, I hope you're able to speak with your intriguing gentleman. Do point him out to me should we all be in attendance at the next performance, darling."</p><p>"I'll be sure to," he murmurs. "Take care."</p><p>"You too," Elaina replies. "Lovely to hear from you, Hannibal!"</p><p>"Likewise, my dear. Good night."</p><p>He disconnects the call and the car is flooded with Verdi again. Hannibal smiles to himself, a skull in the dark.</p><p>*</p><p>Carl Jennings isn't hard to track down; he lives in an upscale condo building a few blocks from his law office. On his day off from his practice, Hannibal idles outside in his car for a few hours, entirely undetected, until he sees him arrive home. Jennings is on his cellphone, smiling easily as he keys in the code to enter his building. Clearly, Hannibal thinks, he’s talking to an acquaintance, and not a colleague. He opens the door, nodding to the desk attendant, and disappears.</p><p>Patient as a mantis, Hannibal silently plays a scale on his dashboard as he waits, idly making note of other passers-by. About twenty minutes later, he sees the blonde girl from the opera emerge from a taxi, followed by one of the other men from the box. Hannibal peers for a moment to see if Will might appear too, but the blonde woman is alone. She looks entirely lovely, all in black with a duffle tucked under her arm. Hannibal admires her shoes in the porchlight. He suspects she is his best source of information, so he settles down to wait again. He doubts she'll be an overnight guest.</p><p>Smiling to himself, he examines her at leisure. She seems relaxed enough as she lingers on the sidewalk while the other man pays, but there’s an edge to her expression that Hannibal can see even from a distance.</p><p>He understands well enough why. A story on his tablet this morning reported a new body had been discovered in downtown Baltimore – a sex worker from a rundown neck of the woods, found butchered like a pig in a multi-story parking garage. It is the fifth in as many months, all of them in the same profession. So far, the story on TattleCrime elucidates, the only witness reports have been spotting the victims getting into cars with a well-dressed gentleman in a distinctive car – though the police have yet to reveal what model.</p><p>Her reappearance suggests a regular arrangement; he wonders if Will has something similar. A brief flash of something unpleasantly like jealousy at the thought. It's merely that he has nurtured a dislike of Mister Jennings, he's sure. He's always been a good judge of character.</p><p>He hums softly along with the stereo as he scans the facade of the condo building, looking for Jennings' unit. He spots it soon enough; sees him at the kitchen window, opening the fridge to retrieve a bottle. He's not sure what the man and his guests are doing. He's trying not to speculate.</p><p>He can guess when, a few hours later, the blonde woman emerges from the apartment to where a taxi is just pulling up. Hannibal, still humming, puts the Bentley into gear and follows it. It's easy enough to keep track of the cab, and the trip isn't far. The neighborhoods flow quickly in this part of the city between trendy and slightly shabby.</p><p>It's in this part of town where the blonde woman emerges from the cab. Hannibal notes with interest that it’s not far from where the most recent body had dropped. He finds a parking spot about halfway down the block and gets out, tucking his hands into his overcoat pockets. He spots the blonde woman disappearing into an apartment block, and slowly follows her. He sees her let herself into a door on the left hand side and silently circles the building.</p><p>Good fortune smiles on him, and when he peers at the buzzer labels, he sees the name ‘Graham’ in faded biro by the buzzer – on the ground floor. Quickly, Hannibal rounds the corner of the apartment block, meandering through the dark at a safe distance until he spies Will’s colleague – and apparently roommate - arrive inside the ground floor apartment moments later, pulling the clip out of her hair and calling out. He can read the shape of her lips, and he smiles.</p><p>
  <em>Will, I’m home.</em>
</p><p>Will emerges from a blind spot in the apartment. Even in pajamas, he's every bit as enchanting as he was at the opera. Sat on the kitchen counter with a chipped mug between his cupped palms, his hair is ruffled, toes and legs bare.</p><p>The blonde tells him a story full of gestures, and Hannibal watches his facial expressions. Most of them consist of rolling his eyes. Sometimes, he smiles, and it's devastating.</p><p>Hannibal considers the idea that the two might be lovers, but there’s been no physical greeting, no affection he can see, outside of camaraderie. Inspecting what he can see of their apartment, he sees what he thinks must be the doors to two bedrooms. Outside of that, all he can glean is that it’s small, barely furnished, plain. It looks like two people who are funneling their earnings into necessities, not enjoyment. That won't do, Hannibal thinks.</p><p>"I found you, Will," he murmurs. Now, just to decide what to do with this information.</p><p>He'd like to know more about Will's circumstances. But he suspects that information won't come easily. Furthermore, he's not convinced this is precisely what Will had in mind when he said to find him. But he never stipulated any rules for his challenge, and all in all, Hannibal feels he's been most efficient. Now just to assess how to approach him.</p><p>*</p><p>Will looks up when Molly comes out of the bathroom in her robe, tapping his teacup absently.</p><p>"Better this morning?" he asks.</p><p>"Could certainly be worse," she says dryly, coming pour herself a cup, “could be that poor girl they found yesterday. I don’t feel far off, though – I’ve got an all-nighter with that guy from Jennings' firm tonight, I’m not looking forward to it on top of the Jennings session. My arm hurts.”</p><p>She laughs, but Will winces: he knows how she feels. They both hate overnights, even though they pay well. It's never as safe, or it certainly doesn't feel that way. Sleeping with them; nearly as bad as kissing them. Neither of them ever sleep.</p><p>Will doesn't sleep much anyway, of course. He rolls his eyes to himself at the thought. He'd slept pretty well last night, truth be told. A night off every once in a while helps. And the opera the night before had been... trying.</p><p>Will shudders at the thought. He regrets that Jennings has developed a liking for him. Even more that Will can't resist the payout that comes with his revolting behavior. He never knows if he should be grateful that Molly's in it with him. At least this way they can keep an eye out for one another – they check in at every location they visit, and they’re one another’s emergency contacts in their cells in case of medical emergency. Lately, this step seems especially crucial: they’re an endangered species. The news of the Call Girl Killer, as the tabloids have dubbed them, has spread fast among their communities. Will daren’t reflect too closely on such a tasteless epitaph – not all the victims have been female, after all, but that’s not the story people want, is it?</p><p>He sighs at the thought, topping up his coffee: time to talk about something lighter.</p><p>"You've got a visit with Walter today right?"</p><p>She nods. "Yeah, later. I have to go take care of some other stuff first."</p><p>"All right. Anything good?"</p><p>"Nah, just - supplies, you know." She rolls her eyes. "Jennings wants to have another party. That's what he wanted to talk about last night."</p><p>Will curls his lip. "Last time I was at one of his 'parties' I ended up out of work for a week."</p><p>Without the buffer of a public space to somewhat control Jennings' peers' behavior, things usually get out of hand, and Will’s sharp tongue gets him in trouble quicker than usual. Last time, Will had hurt in places he didn’t know he could hurt – though the other guy came off worse.</p><p>"That guy won't be invited back," Molly tells him. "So he says. But it's up to you if you want to work it."</p><p>A sigh at that. Hush money is an unfortunate silver lining of such instances. "They pay well..."</p><p>"Yeah." They both have other clients, of course. Both of them are just hesitant to be too choosy.</p><p>And severing connections with Jennings might get them more flack than anything.</p><p>Will thinks fleetingly about the opera, the way that rude lawyer friend of Jennings' had followed him right into the men's room. Afterwards, Jennings had chastised him for giving his coworkers 'attitude'. Will had made him pay for that remark later, in the way he could exercise small revenges, anyway. It's always been enough for him. This time he'd been a bit distracted by that man.</p><p>"Something weird happened to me the other night," he says, at the thought.</p><p>"Weird how?" Molly asks over a spoonful of cereal.</p><p>"When Jennings' fuckhead friend followed me into the bathroom at the opera, there was another guy in there."</p><p>"Yeah? He get all snooty rich guy offended or something?"</p><p>"He threw the guy off me, and then propositioned me."</p><p>"Oh. Well, that's better."</p><p>Will hums thoughtfully into his mug. "He was hot, but he was definitely weird."</p><p>"You don't often call other men hot," Molly comments absently.</p><p>"Don't I?" Will replies.</p><p>"Nope. Not really."</p><p>He supposes it's true. Handsome is one thing; hell, even Jennings is fairly handsome if you like that type. Clean cut, salt and pepper hair, tanned and stocky. Hot is different. Hot is when Will feels something.</p><p>Molly is watching him now. "Did you accept?"</p><p>"Not... exactly."</p><p>Her grin is knowing. "What did you do?"</p><p>"Told him if he could find me, we could work something out," Will murmurs.</p><p>"God, you're wild. How do you even think of this stuff?"</p><p>Will shrugs. "Just comes to me sometimes."</p><p>"What're you gonna do if he finds you?"</p><p>"See what he wants, and if he's willing to pay for it."</p><p>"Sent him on a wild goose chase," Molly snorts. "Why do they always think they'll be the one who doesn't have to pay?"</p><p>"Too many movies," Will drawls.</p><p>"Too big an ego," Molly echoes his tone. They've seen plenty of both.</p><p>"He interested me," Will muses aloud, surprising them both.</p><p>"Well, that's something."</p><p>"It is." Will sighs, then stretches up out of his seat. "I'm volunteering at the shelter today, I'll stop by and get some groceries when I'm done. You need anything?"</p><p>"I'm almost out of shampoo if you don't mind?" Molly flicks a strand of hair as punctuation.</p><p>"Of course." Will pulls on a jumper and some clean jeans from the airer and grabs his keys, wallet and jacket as he heads out. He sticks his things into his pockets and shrugs the coat on, watching leaves swirl across the sidewalk. He's early, so he figures he can call in and get some breakfast on his way. And of course, some more coffee for later.</p><p>He swings into his usual cafe and up to the bar to order.</p><p>"Morning, Will." Beverly, the owner, greets him.</p><p>"Hi, Bev. Coffee and a ham and cheese croissant?"</p><p>"Coming up. Take a seat."</p><p>"Thanks." He slides onto a stool. "How's business?"</p><p>"Oh you know, people gotta eat."</p><p>"Well, I like to."</p><p>"So I hear."</p><p>"Hey now." He chuckles.</p><p>Bev grins back at him. She pours him some coffee. He takes it black, but she always adds a little shake of cinnamon.</p><p>"You at the shelter today, or working?"</p><p>"Shelter. One of the other volunteers just had a baby. We're all picking up extra."</p><p>"Gotta go make sure you're still the dogs' favorite."</p><p>"Well, I have no doubts there," Will chuckles.</p><p>"Oh yeah? What's your secret?"</p><p>"I guess they can tell I like them better than most people?"</p><p>She snickers. "You're meant to say something funny, not sad."</p><p>"Is that sad, though? Really? You're in customer service, you know what I mean," he teases.</p><p>She just shakes her head, seemingly fond. "I like some of my customers," she replies.</p><p>"Hallowed halls."</p><p>"You're on thin ice, though, Smartass."</p><p>"Story of my life." He smiles when she hands him the heated croissant. "Thanks Bev. I'm gonna go sit in the window and read my book."</p><p>"Enjoy." She flicks her ponytail back and goes to grind some more beans.</p><p>Will goes to settle himself in a window seat, pulling his knees up in the armchair and pushing his glasses - a strictly off-work accessory - up his nose. This is the second best part of his routine.</p><p>He and Molly get on just fine - they've entertained being more than that in the past, though work makes it hard - but sometimes being alone is easiest in a place like this. Will likes being alone - or with the dogs, of course.</p><p>Right now, though, he isn't getting the usual feeling of easy seclusion. Something is nagging at him. He won't be able to concentrate until he identifies it.</p><p>He looks up, gaze drifting around the cafe. It's small and empty, as it usually is at this time of day. Frowning, he looks out of the window, onto the rain-darkened street. The walk to the shelter doesn't sound so great right now either. But that's not what's caught his attention - it's a car. And the man sitting in it. It's hard to tell, but - he knows that form.</p><p>He stands up, tucking his glasses into his book. "Bev, I'll be back in a second, watch my stuff?"</p><p>"Sure, hon."</p><p>"Thanks." He heads out, beelining toward the Bentley. When he gets closer, he's certain. He sucks his teeth, and then knocks on the window, leaning against the side of the car facing back toward the cafe.</p><p>When Hannibal Lecter rolls down the window, Will leans down to peek in.</p><p>"You found me," he observes aloud.</p><p>"I did," the doctor agrees.</p><p>"Was it through Jennings?" Will asks.</p><p>"Not precisely," Lecter murmurs.</p><p>"Have you been following me?" Will asks, sharply.</p><p>"No, though if I might admit it without judgment, I did follow your roommate." Lecter shrugs. "You didn't say I couldn't."</p><p>"That seems normal," Will mutters.</p><p>"As normal as anything else that's transpired."</p><p>"Why, what's abnormal about it?" He feels defensive about that.</p><p>"Nothing. We use our resources to the best of our ability. I always have."</p><p>Will sighs. "You gonna stay in the car?" He can't quite bring himself to do the polite thing, it seems.</p><p>"Are you asking me to join you?"</p><p>"Well, it seems you're planning to watch me either way."</p><p>The doctor's lips lift briefly. "I had hoped I might find a moment to approach you."</p><p>"It is a public place," Will agrees. He turns then, leaning on the lip of the car door, arms crossed and face through the window. "I don't do freebies. I don't do stalking. I don't do dates. Is that understood?"</p><p>"Perfectly. Though the opera -"</p><p>"What about it?"</p><p>"Wasn't that a date?"</p><p>Will curls his lip. "That was an escort service."</p><p>"So that is a service that is available, potentially?" Lecter asks smoothly.</p><p>"If you like spending money, then yes."</p><p>"I enjoy spending money. Do you accept gifts?"</p><p>"Prefer cash, but sure."</p><p>He's being intentionally rude now, he knows that. Doctor Lecter, however, is still smiling. He winds up the window, and then opens the door, taller than Will and immaculately dressed in jewel tones. He locks the doors and steps to the curb, gesturing in a courtly manner to the door of the cafe.</p><p>Will sighs and precedes him inside. He immediately has Beverly's full attention. She raises an eyebrow, but Will doesn't comment, just sits back in his chair. Lecter goes to the counter and orders an espresso. Then, he brings it to sit opposite Will, brushing crumbs off the chair before he unbuttons his suit jacket and sits down. He does it with an unexpected air of grace, like he's a dancer and not a doctor of whatever sort.</p><p>"So what's the deal?" Will asks.</p><p>"I'd like to make an appointment with you. If we're compatible, perhaps a standing arrangement."</p><p>"All right. When?"</p><p>"Perhaps Thursdays? Seven-thirty? Do you visit clients at home?"</p><p>"Sure, I can do that." He pulls out his phone to look at his calendar. Despite his comment at the opera, he feels more like he's making a dentist appointment than anything else. "Thursdays are fine."</p><p>Lecter slides a card across the table. "My information."</p><p>"Thanks." Will types in the cell number and calls it. "There, mine too."</p><p>"Thank you, Will."</p><p>"You're welcome." Will looks him over then, beautiful and elegant and looking so very out of place as he sips his coffee. Will sees something in him, something alien in the stillness of his body. Despite himself, he's intrigued. No wedding ring, none of the furtiveness first timers have - but he seems unaccustomed to this, even so. Will hopes it's not a bad sign. He supposes being stalked might be an indication of that.</p><p><em>You practically asked for it</em>, he tells himself. He’d recognized something in this man, and wanted to know if it had been recognized in turn. Now, he sees it has. It's still not exactly what he had in mind. He certainly hadn't been expecting to have coffee with a potential client. But the view is infinitely more compelling than his worn paperback.</p><p>"Thank you for - the other night," he offers, albeit reluctantly.</p><p>"I was pleased to be able to intervene. I expect your evening wouldn't have ended so pleasantly if you'd given in to your urge to stick something sharp in that boor."</p><p>Will bites his lip, stomach jolting. "I don't usually stick anything in anyone who hasn't asked for it." He sees the twitch of a pale eyebrow, but ignores it.</p><p>"You should try it sometime." He says it completely serenely.</p><p>Will gives him a humorless, brief smile. "Noted. We'll review my contract when I come on Thursday."</p><p>"I look forward to it. I have a few stipulations of my own, if I may."</p><p>"Would you like to discuss them now, or Thursday?"</p><p>"You're off the clock. I'm sure it can wait until tomorrow." He sips his espresso again.</p><p>"All right." Will watches him, still intrigued. He's not sure he's ever known someone so self-contained. It's the calmness, the complete lack of shame.</p><p>"So. What do you do, Doctor Lecter?"</p><p>"I'm a psychiatrist. I specialize in abnormal psychology."</p><p>"Well, that -" Makes total sense. And it makes Will a little uncomfortable.</p><p>It must be obvious, because Lecter tilts his head. "The idea discomfits you?"</p><p>"Never really liked the idea of someone poking around in my brain."</p><p>"You're not my client, Will."</p><p>"Does that stop you, when you get the urge to... psychoanalyze?"</p><p>"What could I possibly glean from you, other than your utter contempt for psychiatrists?" He smiles slightly.</p><p>"Some of my clients like contempt," Will mutters.</p><p>"It is very fetching on you, to be sure." He smiles, just faintly. "I have other preferences."</p><p>"Oh yeah? Aesthetic, or..?"</p><p>"Aesthetics. Interactions. Yes."</p><p>"You like people to amuse you," Will surmises. He knows he's correct.</p><p>Hannibal raises his eyebrows, a smile touching the corners of his eyes. "Don't we all?"</p><p>"I suppose you're not wrong."</p><p>"I knew you'd see it my way." He drains his cup. "Anyway, thank you for your time, Will. I'll see you tomorrow. Would you like me to collect you?"</p><p>"That's not necessary," Will says quickly.</p><p>"You don't like to be in cars with your clients?"</p><p>Will bites his lip. "You're an abnormal psychology specialist. You tell me what happens to people like me in cars with strangers."</p><p>Anger looks like a faint flush high on the doctor's cheeks. Will sips his coffee, refusing to look at him. His trauma isn't for public consumption. Though the doctor does look... appetitive. Will has to decide if he's willing to be consumed.</p><p>"Do we need to discuss my fee?" he asks, delicately.</p><p>"No," Hannibal says immediately. Confidently, "would you like cash or deposit?"</p><p>"Either, I have an account you can use if you prefer to transfer." He really shouldn't be surprised, considering the suits and the Bentley. And the opera.</p><p>"Transfer should be fine. I assume you would make one small concession to my aesthetic preferences?"</p><p>"And what is that, Doctor?"</p><p>"I'd like you to wear a suit."</p><p>It's not what Will was expecting. "Are we going somewhere?"</p><p>"No. I just very much enjoyed the way you wore a suit at the opera." He tilts his head slightly. "Though I'd prefer if you wore one that fits."</p><p>Will smirks faintly. "European tailoring?"</p><p>"If you don't mind."</p><p>"I might have something," Will muses.</p><p>"Very good. I'll send you my address, and leave you to your day." He rises smoothly.</p><p>Will's eye follows him, nearly without his permission. "Tomorrow then," he murmurs. He feels a strange little swell of anticipation.</p><p>The doctor smiles at him, and then moves to take his leave. "Tomorrow."</p><p>"Tomorrow," Will mutters to himself. He tracks the lean figure of the doctor back to his car. He won't miss that Bentley again.</p><p>Absently, he wonders what other stipulations Lecter might have. The man is too - unusual to be completely vanilla. Something about him worries Will. Not in a way that makes him want to cancel, though. If anything, it makes him more intrigued.</p><p>There's a voice in his head that's scolding him faintly. It sounds like Molly. <em>Don't forget what’s happening to people like us at the minute.</em> He shakes it off and settles down in his seat once more. He still has plenty of time to read.</p><p>After that, his day in the shelter goes quickly, and he has clients to entertain in the evening that keep him out well into the early hours.</p><p>Sleepily, in the cab home, he mentally goes through the few suits in his closet. He has a relatively new one he never wears because it feels not-him. He thinks it might be what Hannibal Lecter has in mind.</p><p>He showers when he gets home and digs the suit out, hanging it on the bathroom door to air slightly in the steam. He’s too tired to consider much more. He checks in with Molly by text, and then falls face-first into bed.</p><p>He sleeps well into the next afternoon, occasionally stirring out of nightmares of being chased through the floors of a parking garage. He hears Molly come and go sometime in the morning, but she doesn't disturb him.</p><p>When he finally gets up, she's in the kitchen.</p><p>"I made soup and garlic bread," she offers.</p><p>"It smells good, but I'll pass on the garlic bread," Will murmurs.</p><p>"That's fair, I've got the night off from the bar and I decided not to fuck it up with anyone else today."</p><p>"Good call, you could use a rest. I... have a new client tonight," Will tells her, going over to inspect the soup pot.</p><p>"Oh yeah?" She watches him.</p><p>"Yeah, but I'm not sure if he's a first timer or not."</p><p>"What makes you think so?"</p><p>"He didn't even blink making the arrangements."</p><p>"That would suggest he's not?"</p><p>"He's... something."</p><p>"Something?"</p><p>"Something I'm not sure of yet."</p><p>"Are you... afraid of him?"</p><p>Will <em>wants</em> to say yes. "I can handle it."</p><p>"You'll keep your phone close," she instructs.</p><p>"I will take my knife, don't worry."</p><p>She sighs. "God. Okay. And eat something."</p><p>"Eating." He helps himself to some non-garlic bread and carts the bowl of soup to the table. He curls his legs under himself and rifles through the paper she's left there, scanning for stories about the Call Girl Killer. There’s a couple of narrow columns about sightings, but nothing new – no discoveries. He can feel Molly watching him while she makes them coffee. Her worrying is practically audible.</p><p>"Mol," he says, not taking his eyes off the paper, "I'll be okay."</p><p>"Yeah, I know," she says quickly.</p><p>"Good. Stop putting holes in the newspaper."</p><p>"I'm not!" He catches her eye, expression disbelieving. She throws her hands up. "You know I'm just a worrier."</p><p>"I know. I know. I'm okay. It's the guy from the opera."</p><p>"The bathroom rescue guy?"</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>"Well, that's unexpected.".</p><p>"It is." Will gulps down more of his soup, unexpectedly hungry. "He found me."</p><p>"No wonder you're scared. He know Jennings?"</p><p>"That's... not the impression I got."</p><p>"Okay." She frowns.</p><p>Will shrugs. "I'll see how it goes, okay?"</p><p>"You taking the full bag of tricks with you?" she asks.</p><p>"Yeah, never know what people are gonna want I guess."</p><p>Will has a few ideas, though. He's not entirely sure they aren't just things he wants. That's a new one. The sudden absence of disinterest creates a swirling sort of feeling. Fear, he thinks Molly got it in one. But he's never been great with fear, despite it being an intimate companion of his.</p><p>His musing is cut short by the buzzer going, and Molly absently goes to press the intercom.</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Delivery for Mister Graham?”</p><p>“Come on in.” She shrugs and hits the buzzer, and they hear the sounds of footsteps down the hall. Will’s breath is strangely bated as Molly peers through the spy hole, but she seems satisfied that whoever it is, they’re legit.</p><p>She opens the door and accepts a stack of gift boxes, one about the size of a bedside cabinet, the other more like a shoebox, and a smaller one still on top. She doesn’t seem to have trouble lifting them, and Will gets up to investigate with her, curiosity piqued.</p><p>“You Graham? Sign here,” the delivery guy says in a bored voice. Will signs, and relinquishes the clipboard, and then the door is closed and they’re alone again.</p><p>“There’s a note,” Molly says keenly, handing it over. Both of them – especially Molly – have received fancies from various clients before, though they’re never delivered to their home address: sharing that kind of information is never a good idea.</p><p>“Must be the new guy,” Will mutters, ripping open the envelope, noting the thick, expensive stationery as he extracts the letter and scans over the contents.</p><p>
  <em>Dear Will,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I hope you do not object to my sending a token of my appreciation before our upcoming appointment today. I will be sure to heed your preference for the value of gifts in the future. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Even if you do not use them often, might they be a souvenir of whatever circumstance results from our meeting.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>With anticipation,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Doctor H. Lecter</em>
</p><p>Wordlessly, he hands over the letter to Molly, then moves to open the largest box first. It's a deep, shimmering blue velvet, the same bow tied on top, and when Will unties it it looks like strips of the night sky falling. He lifts the lid from the box and inside, finds a huge spray of burgundy roses, crowded together, glittering faintly.</p><p>“Jesus, Will,” Molly breathes behind him.</p><p>She helps him lift the bouquet from the box and they take them to the kitchen table, where they continue to look incredibly out of place on its scratched and dented surface. There are pearls, Will sees, delicately adhered to the edge of some petals. The same navy ribbon binds them together.</p><p>The next box reveals a pair of polished leather shoes, infinitely more expensive than anything Will has ever even beheld, he’s sure, simple and elegantly understated. He doesn’t even know the make, subtly embossed on the sole of each shoe; the tongues. They’re his size. There’s a tie neatly folded in one, wrapped in velvet, steel grey with blue diamond highlights woven in shimmering thread.</p><p>“Doctor Lecter,” he murmurs, “you’ve overstepped your bounds…”</p><p>“The hell he has. Open the last one.”</p><p>With a sigh, Will accepts the last box, the same navy velvet, and undoes the bow. This has the sturdier, heavier feel of a jewellery box, and when he lifts the lid, his heart does something strange in his chest.</p><p>“Holy <em>fuck!</em>” Molly exclaims over his shoulder, which about sums it up.</p><p>The watch is gleaming smoked silver, with a shining blue and silver face and matching leather strap. Will can tell just from the lines of the thing that it’s exceptionally made, the mechanisms inside partially exposed and the side of the thing marked with an anchor, and a subtle ‘No.1’. The zero is inset with a single tasteful diamond, like a star next to the inky blue of the leather.</p><p>“Holy shit,” he mutters. He thinks he needs to sit down, and so he does, surveying the spread of lavish gifts before him with his heart beating hard in his chest. Stupidly, he pushes the soup aside, afraid he’ll inadvertently mark something. Even the packaging seems too plush to damage.</p><p>“Look who’s a sugar baby, huh?”</p><p>“I’m not,” he grouses.</p><p>“Bullshit you’re not, that’s twenty grand of watch right there.”</p><p>He knows it. He knows. With the value of this watch alone, they could put down a deposit on a better place – maybe even buy somewhere. Molly could have a spare room for Walter. If Will continued to see Hannibal, maybe he could even start paying tuition; finish his education.</p><p>“I need to think,” he murmurs.</p><p>“Yeah, I get that.”</p><p>He sighs, then reaches forward and pulls out one of the long-stemmed roses, tiny pearls shining on its surface like rain drops. He hands it to Molly, and she raises it to smell, smiling shyly.</p><p>“I’ll see what he wants,” he says, and she nods, squeezing his shoulder and then leaving him to his thoughts while she gets ready for work at the bar.</p><p>Mind whirling, Will finishes eating, all the while staring at the gifts, before hauling himself up to get ready. He puts in a short workout before he gets in the shower, and finds he even has time to read a while before he has to , and then finally it's time to get dressed and style his hair.</p><p>He stares at the gifts on the table once more, debating, before he picks up the shoebox, the watch, and the tie, and slots them all into his duffle.</p><p>He leaves the scrap of paper with Hannibal's address on his bedside table. He's already memorized it, and it might be - smart, to leave a paper trail in a way that won't worry Molly too much.</p><p>After bidding goodbye to Molly, and showing her the knife in his duffle, he goes down and catches a cab to the address Doctor Lecter gave him. It's an impressive home, more clear signs of money. Also isolated, and clearly in possession of a large basement, judging by the Bilco doors Will spies down the side of the house. It's wise, to notice these things, is what he tells himself. Not just paranoid. Will knows he has a... tendency, certainly heightened by the current climate.</p><p>It's been honed by years of experience, and the intuition that has never steered him wrong: he has a sixth sense for madness. Depravity, too. It serves him well. He has the faintest whiff of both here, but something else too.</p><p>Knocking on the door, he endeavors to find out what it is. Hannibal greets him with a glance up and down when he opens the door. He looks faintly approving, but still closed off.</p><p>"Good evening, Will. Please come in."</p><p>Will nods and steps in, keeping his gaze steady. Hannibal's home is grandiose; eccentrically decorated. Will would spend a long time looking if given the chance. He could spend a long time looking at Hannibal too, just as grandiose with his sleek, dark suit, and glittering eyes.</p><p>"Would you like a drink?" Hannibal asks, interrupting his admiring.</p><p>"Bourbon, if you have it," Will says absently.</p><p>"Of course. Come through to the kitchen."</p><p>Will follows him down a dark-wallpapered hall and into a large and beautiful kitchen the color of a stormy sea.</p><p>"Make it a double, if you don't mind," he murmurs: he's going to need to take the edge off to get through this without saying something incendiary. At least until he figures out if Hannibal Lecter likes that kind of thing. He probably does, if his reaction to Will's dare is anything to go by.</p><p>Will sternly represses a shiver at the thought of the theme of chases that seem to be shadowing him lately, and sits down at the waterfall-edge marble counter.</p><p>"Shall we talk about payment?" The doctor asks, bringing Will a frosted glass.</p><p>Will reels off the costs for what he's expecting Hannibal will most want to know about. Hannibal just waits, politely, but he interrupts when Will takes a breath.</p><p>"A flat rate for everything will suffice."</p><p>"Hourly?" Will replies.</p><p>"The night."</p><p>"There's still a list of no-gos," Will says slowly.</p><p>"Tell me."</p><p>"You haven't heard the nightly rate."</p><p>"I know that. I'll pay whatever you tell me. Tell me your list."</p><p>Will takes a deep breath, and starts. "No barebacking. No spitting. No bodily fluids that aren't generally involved with sex. If you want extreme, we have to discuss it first. We can do hitting or spanking or choking but if I tell you to stop and you don't, I will cut your dick off. No false intimacy. Do not kiss my mouth. Do not come to my home again. Understood?"</p><p>"Understood," Hannibal murmurs.</p><p>Will nods, and then takes a sip of his drink. It's shockingly good. "What did you have in mind?"</p><p>Hannibal sips his own drink. "Do you prefer a description or a demonstration?"</p><p>"Just a heads up for anything out of the ordinary."</p><p>"Nothing that you haven't mentioned, at least not tonight."</p><p>"Reassuring," Will mutters. He probably shouldn't have; it earns him an immediate look. He tries to hide the roll of his eyes. He'll be disappointed if this man turns out to be another Jennings.</p><p>"If you're uncomfortable and would rather not continue, there's no hard feelings, Will." He sips his drink, and Will follows suit.</p><p>"It's fine. Would you like to go upstairs?"</p><p>"If you're willing."</p><p>"Of course." Will stands, setting down his empty. He picks up his bag, and the insurance policy inside.</p><p>Hannibal leads him through the hall, back to the staircase and up. Will studies his back. It's a perfectly nice back, he finds. And the bedroom too is gorgeous, pale blues and golds. Taking it in, Will kicks off his shoes, and moves to undo his own tie.</p><p>"Wait," Hannibal stills his hand. His eyes are on the duffel bag; the unmistakable box shape. "Did you receive my gifts?"</p><p>"I did," Will murmurs. "I suppose it would be polite to thank you, but I'm still not entirely comfortable that you know my home address." He can't exactly gauge the expression on Hannibal's face.</p><p>"You challenged me to find you. You offered no stipulations."</p><p>"You're right." Will shifts. "I brought them. I wasn't sure whether to give them back. It's... they feel obscene. To you it's nothing. To me it's a years' wage."</p><p>"This is about the watch, then? I'm positive you could sell it if you so chose. It won't lose value."</p><p>Will swallows, dropping his head. "I don't want to sell it. I want you to know that buying me things doesn't impress me. It doesn't make me want to be yours. I'm not yours. I won't fuck you any better or kiss you or let you do any gross shit to me because you buy me things. Is that clear?"</p><p>"Quite clear," Hannibal murmurs. He tilts his head. "Would it make you feel any better to know that I did not think you would be bought by a nice wrist watch, or a tie?"</p><p>"Yes," Will replies, a bit sullenly. Then, he wrinkles his nose. "Why did you buy me them, then?"</p><p>"Because I knew how astonishing they would look on you," Hannibal says simply. "And because it pleases me, to see you wearing things I have bought you. It will please me, when you have started to take them for granted. I will pay your bills, for a plumber, for diamonds to be put into the soles of your shoes. Because it pleases <em>me</em>, Will. It is all for me."</p><p>Will finds himself momentarily speechless, but somehow unsurprised. "And why me? There are thousands of others like me."</p><p>"Perhaps. Perhaps not. It remains to be seen."</p><p>Will shivers, and then he goes to the duffle and unzips it. "I'll do whatever you want with them."</p><p>"Put them on, please," Hannibal murmurs.</p><p>Will bites his lip. "That's what would please you?"</p><p>"It will give me the pleasure of removing them, along with the rest of what you have on your body."</p><p>Will swallows, and then takes out the box. "You put them on me."</p><p>It comes out as an order. Hannibal considers, and then nods. Something about it stirs him, because his cheeks flush slightly as he retrieves the box from the bag, no doubt stealing a glimpse of its contents while he's at it. Will is always thorough.</p><p>"See anything in there you like the look of?"</p><p>"I wonder how your collection compares to mine." He motions Will to sit on the edge of the bed. "I dare say we'll find out in time, but not tonight. Tonight I simply want us to get to know one another. Your foot, please."</p><p>Mutely, Will raises it. Hannibal pulls the first shoe out of the box.</p><p>"How did you know my size?" Will asks dumbly, feeling like some twisted Cinderella parody.</p><p>"I have a good eye." He fastens the beautiful Oxford neatly, and then gestures for Will's other foot. Just seeing his sleek, bowed head is enough to set Will's mind going. Mixed messages, to say the least. He swallows.</p><p>Hannibal fastens the second shoe, and then stands, unfurling the tie. "Stand up, Will," he says softly.</p><p>Will does as he's bid, though he's a little salty about it. "You're just going to take all this stuff off again now?"</p><p>"Not before I thoroughly enjoy it."</p><p>Will shrugs: it's Hannibal's ticket, he can punch it how he likes.</p><p>Hannibal is much closer, now that he's knotting the tie.</p><p> Will takes in every inch of his face. "So you'll want to buy more?" He asks, a little resigned.</p><p>"I suspect I will," Hannibal murmurs, eyes flicking up slowly. He pulls the knot up snug against the base of Will's throat, fingers brushing the skin at the base for a moment. Then he reaches for the watch. Will takes a full breath while he's an arms-length away.</p><p>"I have a feeling this is a watch for someone who actually owns a yacht," Will mutters, gesturing to the little anchor on the face. Regardless, the hairs on his arms are standing on end to see Hannibal fastening it on his wrist.</p><p>"You're young. Perhaps you will someday," Hannibal replies.</p><p>The idea makes Will snort. Even so, he settles into himself when Hannibal steps back, letting him look. He keeps his head high, his expression neutral. Hannibal's gaze is appraising, just the barest frisson of heat to it.</p><p>"Blue works well with your coloring."</p><p>"I'll keep that in mind," Will says pertly. He lets Hannibal look a while longer, and then shifts nervously. "Doctor," he starts.</p><p>"Yes, Will?"</p><p>He touches the knot at his throat, wider than the style he usually ties. "Should I -"</p><p>"No," Hannibal says when he turns around. "Please allow me."</p><p>Will drops his hands obediently, eyes down. He's very much hoping Hannibal won't expect him to pretend to be a blushing virgin, but he can follow a cue.</p><p>Instead, the doctor simply curls a hand loosely around his tie, drawing it down, looking at him closely.</p><p>"You selected a lovely suit," Hannibal tells him softly. "You have my thanks."</p><p>"Glad you like it. Ironed it and everything."</p><p>"Mm, yes. You clean up nicely. But I suspect you prefer the more casual look?"</p><p>"I just like practical."</p><p>"Practicality has its place."</p><p>"Doctor Lecter," he murmurs, "are you going to continue look at me, or touch me?"</p><p>"Both, I had imagined."</p><p>"And if I tell you to hurry up?"</p><p>"I imagine you could guess my opinion of rudeness."</p><p>"But would you do it anyway?" Will adds a little silk to it, his own fingers brushing against the front of Hannibal's fitted waistcoat. "Would not doing be more rude?"</p><p>Hannibal's lips twitch faintly. "You could try saying please."</p><p>"You'd like that, would you?" Will echoes his expression. He leans in, holding unrelenting eye contact. "Please, Hannibal."</p><p>He sees the way his pupils dilate at the word. It's nearly a relief. The first fully honest reaction he's seen. Wordlessly, he slips Will's tie free, and begins to skim the jacket from his shoulders. Each move is easy, and performed with just noticeably more haste than before.</p><p>"You want me to undress you too?" Will asks.</p><p>"Soon," Hannibal murmurs, tugging his unbuttoned shirt down his arms.</p><p>He pauses again, lips parting slightly. Will isn't a stranger to the look, but this one feels different. He wishes he could say why. Instead he just lets himself fall into an easy pose.</p><p>"Want to see the rest?" he murmurs, starting to unfasten his flies.</p><p>"Very much so."</p><p>Will lets the slacks drop with no thought for the ironing he'd given them, bending to slip off his shoes and socks and then straightening, thumbs tucking into his waistband. He wears briefs on jobs, always the same kind, tight and black and low-cut. They always seem appreciated, and this is no exception.</p><p>Hannibal motions him to turn. Will does, though with a roll of his eyes. He's not entirely surprised by the palm smoothing its way down his spine. A thumb brushes the scar on the back of his shoulder. The other hand curves shamelessly around the globe of his ass.</p><p>Will stiffens a little, though not much surprises him anymore. Hannibal doesn't ask about the scar, either, which is just as surprising. Instead, he's gently pressing Will's shoulder.</p><p>"Bend over, please."</p><p>Will does. Gracefully, and without comment. His hands find the foot of the bed, Hannibal's find his hips. Will can feel the whisper of fine wool on the backs of his thighs. So it's going to be a fully clothed thing, he guesses. That's fine. And he prefers facing away most of the time. It hides his face. He's good enough to cover his lack of enthusiasm otherwise. Currently, however, Lecter doesn't seem to be moving.</p><p>"Hannibal," he murmurs.</p><p>"Yes, Will."</p><p>He assumes a confidential tone. "You said you wanted the night, but I assure you I can go more than once... if there's time."</p><p>"I'm sure you can."</p><p>Will holds back a sigh, pressing with his hips instead.</p><p>"I'm looking at you," Hannibal tells him simply. As if he deserves an explanation. Hannibal paid for the night. If this is what he wants....</p><p>Will peers back at him. "Let me at least show you the rest." He raises a brow. "Maybe then you'll tell me what you want to do with me."</p><p>"Simply endeavoring not to rush." But his hands squeeze Will's hips. "You have a lovely body."</p><p>"It could be worse," Will agrees. He doesn't bother to do much along the lines of exercise these days, other than dog walks and vanity work outs. Push-ups and sit-ups are good enough to keep up his muscle tone.</p><p>Now, he straightens to push down his briefs, peering at Hannibal over his shoulder. "You're still very dressed." He lets Hannibal get a good look at his rear view, then turns around. "Let me help you."</p><p>"Very well," Hannibal purrs.</p><p>Will examines him as he unbuttons his waistcoat. "Usually handsome men who hire sex workers have ugly appetites. How's yours look?"</p><p>"You seem very suspicious of me, Will," Hannibal comments, obligingly removing his cufflinks.</p><p>"Forewarned is forearmed, etcetera."</p><p>"Sensible." He tilts his head. "Some handsome men have less ugly appetites than secrets."</p><p>"Secrets? Like what? Their sexuality, maybe? It's obvious you're not married, and you had no problem approaching me in public, so that isn't it. No wife, no shame, so that leaves..." Will gestures expansively. "Taste."</p><p>"You doubt my taste?" He stands still while Will unbuttons his shirt.</p><p>"The opposite."</p><p>"You <em>admire</em> my taste." He shrugs out of the fabric, draping it carefully across a chair. Letting Will look at him.</p><p>"It has me curious." Hannibal has him curious too, albeit reluctantly. He's stunning. Will rarely admits that about anyone.</p><p>"And what if you don't like what you find?"</p><p>"I don't come back." It rings a bit hollow, with the money Hannibal has just transferred him sitting heavy in his bank account. The watch still clasped heavy around his wrist. He gives it one more look then slips the clasp free, setting it on the bedside table with a small click. Neither of them seem to be considering that Hannibal might not <em>want</em> him to come back. That seems very far from the realm of possibility.</p><p>"One day," Hannibal murmurs, "perhaps I'll show you." His voice stays even despite Will's hands on his fly.</p><p>"Don't worry about it," Will murmurs, because he'd hate to give him the impression he found him interesting.</p><p>He drops to his knees before him then, taking the trousers down with him, and reaches for his bag. He needs a rubber, though he sees the nearly infinitesimal twitch of Hannibal's lip.</p><p>"What is it?" he asks, pulling out a string of them, throwing a few onto the bed and opening one.</p><p>"That brand is acceptable," he replies. "But I'll purchase a replenishment for next time."</p><p>"You got ones you prefer, hand 'em over." He waits to see if Hannibal will do it. He feels sure he's prepared for this.</p><p>"The drawer by your shoulder."</p><p>Will leans over and pulls it out, sees the matte black box tucked inside. God, even the condoms in this place are disgustingly expensive.</p><p>"Whatever you like, Doctor," Will murmurs. He helps himself, popping the sleeve open and taking out a coin. When he turns back, Hannibal has stepped out of the trousers.</p><p>"Sit down," Will tells him. "No, wait -" He tugs the man's briefs down first.</p><p>Hannibal sits then, looking surprised to be directed. Will is still looking him over.</p><p>"What is it?" Hannibal asks.</p><p>"You really are gorgeous, Doctor."</p><p>"Glad you approve." He lets his thighs fall gracefully apart as Will shoulders between them.</p><p>"You're bad at relaxing, though," Will observes, opening the condom and smoothly rolling it onto Hannibal's cock. He glances up, a dart of a thing. "Control freak?"</p><p>"Workaholic," the doctor confirms.</p><p>"How devoted of you." God, Will can't turn off the sarcasm with this man.</p><p>Just the quirk of a pale eyebrow at that; a slight smile. "I reward devotion as well."</p><p>"You can buy all the devotion you want." Will takes him in hand to shut him up.</p><p>The only sign that it's working is a soft exhale. Finally, Will bows his head to take him into his mouth. This at least, will stop the words he can't stifle. And maybe disrupt Hannibal's unflappable stillness. Will knows he's good. He makes it good now, going deep and easy, immediately working his length quick. Fingers sifting through his slightly too-long curls is a good sign. He can hear his breath coming slow, but it's almost forced. Will lets himself glance upward.</p><p>He's watched intently. That's good - he likes that. And he's sure Hannibal will be enjoying the view. He looks down again, at his own hands. Holding Hannibal where he needs him as he sucks. Maybe he should touch himself, too. But maybe that would seem... disingenuous. Some clients don't like it unless he's getting off too. He's not sure if Hannibal is going to be one of them.</p><p>He's not sure of anything about him. Except that he's as well-endowed as he is anything else. Almost seems unfair. He might be able to call him a terrible lay though, with how awkward he is.</p><p>He glances up again. Pulls off to say, "Jesus, touch me, you're paying for it." He doesn't mean to make it sound like a challenge. But Hannibal smiles nonetheless.</p><p>"On the bed, then," he orders softly.</p><p>Will rises easily. "How?" he murmurs.</p><p>Hannibal considers. "Hands and knees," he finally says.</p><p>Will complies with a faint sigh. He's not surprised when Hannibal's fingers trace down his spine. "Condom," he murmurs, and Hannibal's hands leave his skin, though he doesn't stop talking as he deals with the preparation.</p><p>"I suppose you're used to your clients commenting on your looks."</p><p>Will is very used to it. "Sometimes they're even complimentary about it."</p><p>"Oh?"</p><p>"Sometimes, of course, they're not."</p><p>"How can that be?"</p><p>"Sometimes they tell me I look like a dirty little whore," Will smiles over his shoulder. The expression on Hannibal's face is unreadable.</p><p>"How does that make you feel?" he murmurs then.</p><p>"Like I can't believe I'm fucking a psychiatrist," Will says tartly, breath catching faintly as fingers dip between his cheeks and press.</p><p>"Ah, I see. How do you know that's the only kind of doctor I am?" His voice is measured; he's found where Will is prepped and ready.</p><p>Will snorts. "Don't have to be a doctor for that."</p><p>"No, one just has to practice." Long fingers press inside, twist in a very practiced gesture. Will has to catch his gasp.</p><p>"You seem like you've had a lot."</p><p>Hannibal hums. Will rocks back into his hand, nearly unconsciously.</p><p>"Enough," Hannibal says. Will glances, and Hannibal is smiling.</p><p>"Feels like it," Will admits. Seems the doctor cares if he enjoys it after all.</p><p>"Glad to hear it."</p><p>Will holds back a noise. He's changed his mind about him being a bad lay. He's a <em>tease</em>. He's taking his time. The night that he's paid for, and not a moment less, Will suspects.</p><p>He buries his forehead in his arms with a sigh. Hannibal is fingering him like there’s nothing else on earth he’d rather be doing, so incredibly involved, his other hand gently fondling at his balls. The brushes to his prostate have Will’s nerves sparking. He's panting soft and low.</p><p>"Hannibal," he keeps his tone beseeching.</p><p>"What is it?"</p><p>"I'm more than ready," he murmurs.</p><p>"This isn't in the name of preparation."</p><p>"All - right?" He has to gasp again.</p><p>"You needn't have me stop if you're enjoying it."</p><p>"I'm enjoying it," Will admits. "Give me more."</p><p>Hannibal does, quicker, precisely. Now he's really panting.</p><p>"Fuck," Will mutters. He braces himself on his hands. "Okay, okay," he mutters, "come on, just fuck me."</p><p>The long fingers pause. "Does this fall into your definition of false intimacy, Will?"</p><p>"Hannibal," Will groans.</p><p>"Just curious."</p><p>"I don't mind- getting off - if that's what you're asking," Will pants.</p><p>"What about dedication to you getting off? Or does it have to be an accident? Or by your hand?" He withdraws his fingers, rubbing the head of his cock against Will's hole, now, applying more lube from the condom packet.</p><p>"Conversations like this are also off limits," Will says dryly.</p><p>"Very well," Hannibal says, and thrusts home on a long exhale. The gasp it shocks out of Will is ragged, even though it's utterly controlled. Maybe because it is. He's been in similar situations before, praise kinks and good dog and yes fuck daddy that's it, but not exactly like this, where it's treated almost like a conquest. Will can't think, fuck, not even to say something. He's had shy folks who wanted it to seem real, but this isn't that either.</p><p>This is Hannibal, he thinks, wanting to see what he'll <em>do</em>. He glowers at the headboard, and bridges his hips back. He can make this good too. And he will.</p><p>He rolls his hips back, finding the best angle for deep thrusts. Hannibal's breath changes, and it's obvious it's beneficial for him too.</p><p>"Good," Will breathes. "Deeper, Hannibal."</p><p>He does as he's bid, snapping his hips forward powerfully. Will groans. It isn't even forced. Hands finding the headboard, he tips his pelvis, practically presenting. Hannibal's hands are steady on his hips. His thumbs are pressing in. It pinches just enough to focus him. And then, Hannibal slows.</p><p>Will breathes out. "Let's switch," he murmurs.</p><p>Hannibal hums. "In what way?"</p><p>"Me on top."</p><p>"Very well," Hannibal murmurs.</p><p>Will shifts them both round efficiently until Hannibal is reclined against his plush pillows, looking lean and golden on the white silk. With his skin already flushed, chest heaving, Will holds Hannibal's eyes as he lowers himself back down. Smooth, slow, controlled. His control now. He rolls his hips slowly, setting his hands against the headboard once more. It forces Hannibal to look up at him, those wine colored eyes too bright, but Will just closes his eyes and starts to ride him.</p><p>A warm hand settles on Will’s trembling stomach, smoothing over his skin like Hannibal is committing him to memory. His breaths are unschooled now, like finally he's losing some control. Will holds onto that, and he works it hard; exploits it with every move of his body. Uses every muscle to draw every sound out of Hannibal he can. His skin dews with sweat. He hears his name, just softly, and opens his eyes. He's just in time to see Hannibal's expression.</p><p>He looks completely enraptured. Will finds himself unsurprised. It's not so different to how he'd looked at Will in the washroom at the theatre. He's not sure why he honestly fascinates Hannibal like he does. But he's glad for it, at least superficially: it means repeat business. For as long as he can put up with the invasive questions, he supposes.</p><p>He wonders if they will get worse, or better. More to the point, to whose point of view.</p><p>"You're thinking," Hannibal observes. His voice still sounds pleased, but not nearly as close as Will expects.</p><p>"I can multitask," Will deflects. He gives Hannibal a look from under half-closed eyelids.</p><p>"So you can. May I touch you?"</p><p>"Yes," Will allows.</p><p>Hannibal does, a hand gliding up Will's flank. He has nice hands, Will muses. Strong hands. Doctor's hands. He knows how to make this good. Will could let him. He thinks it's what Hannibal really wants. Part of the reason he's resisting, he supposes. Giving the doctor what he wants feels dangerous somehow.</p><p>Maybe he's being overcautious. Molly would tells him not to turn down a harmless good time. But Molly doesn't know people like Will does. She tries, but she doesn't have his... exceptional mind. Though she's much smarter than him in other ways. It's why they stick together. And why, now, he counsels himself.</p><p>"Please, more," he murmurs.</p><p>"What was that?" A sly smile.</p><p>"More, Hannibal," Will concedes.</p><p>Hannibal quickly curls a hand around Will's cock, motions slow and kneading. And it <em>is</em> good, enough to make Will rock harder.</p><p>"That's perfect," he purrs. "Oh, keep <em>going</em>, Doctor."</p><p>He complies, watching Will ride him with growing abandon, eyes dark and gleaming. His lips are gleaming, flushed and slightly parted. And his chest is fairly heaving now, finely muscled and maintained. Will reaches down to run his fingers through the drift of hair. Then he settles with both hands on him, letting himself touch in turn. The man is powerful, and Will can't deny the appeal. It still begs the question: where's the catch?</p><p>In the meantime, Will feels something pleasant building. Hannibal is thick, and hard, and Will likes sex plenty. He's back in control, here. He's in a beautiful home, with a beautiful man, and there's a decent amount in his account. He'll endure a lot of gross shit for that alone. Being fucked by someone who knows how to do it is a bonus. Will might even let him drive this car the entire time next time.</p><p>A next time seems inevitable. Hannibal's gaze feels so full of promise. Will feels full of him. He rolls his hips, and up into his tight grip.</p><p>"Fuck," he mutters under his breath, "that's good."</p><p>The words catch in his chest. Hannibal visibly thrills under the admittance. He smiles, just a tuck of the corners of his lips.</p><p>"It is," he agrees. His tone is as warm and smug as his smile.</p><p>Will kicks his hips a little faster to disturb the silt of his calm. He's gratified by the way hands tighten on his hips.</p><p>Hannibal's lips part like a big cat scenting. He pulls Will down with every roll. His chest is moving faster. Will's fingers clench, tug. That startles a gasp out of Hannibal. Will bares his teeth.</p><p>"Do you hurt all your clients?" Hannibal asks calmly.</p><p>"Do you dislike it?" Will breathes.</p><p>"Quite the contrary." He does look delighted, still.</p><p>Will smiles and yanks again gently, letting his nails cut in a little. "Fill me up now," he murmurs.</p><p>Hannibal draws him down, hitching them into a position where he has more leverage. Will keens softly. His eyes slip closed of their own accord. He can let this be good. It already is.</p><p>They're both insistent now, driving movements and no slowing down. Hannibal's hand in particular isn't slowing. Will can feel his skin hugging his ribs as he loses his breath. He tips his head back, groaning softly.</p><p>"Good," he says again.</p><p>That earns him a little smirk. The powerful thrusts do not slow. Will lets himself savor a moment longer, then he slows him once more.</p><p>"Let me suck you again," he suggests.</p><p>"You don't want to - continue?" Hannibal murmurs.</p><p>"We've got all night," Will shrugs.</p><p>Hannibal hums. "Yes." He releases Will as he slips off him, still looking a little dazed.</p><p>"Have you ever done this before?" Will asks, wiping the sweat off his brow before he strips the first condom off Hannibal and reaches for a fresh one.</p><p>"Done what, Will?"</p><p>"Solicited sex."</p><p>"No," the doctor admits.</p><p>"I didn't think so." He rolls the rubber on again and dips his head, eyebrow quirking. "Living up to expectations?"</p><p>"I honestly didn't have any."</p><p>"No?" Will isn't surprised, somehow.</p><p>"I like to keep my options open."</p><p>"Yes, I can tell," Will murmurs.</p><p>Hannibal smiles. "Is experience preferable?"</p><p>"Possibly not," Will says frankly. He lies down then. "Come up and fuck my mouth."</p><p>The deep brown eyes light at that. "Eloquent," he muses, shifting.</p><p>"To the point." Will tugs him up onto his chest.</p><p>Hannibal isn't shy about pushing between his lips. His warm hand against the nape of Will's neck feels good too. It cups gently but still holds him steady. Will moans softly in encouragement as he presses deep.</p><p>He takes him as deep as he can, rocks his head from side to side and feels him nudge a little deeper; feels Hannibal's soft groan of surprise. It sends an unexpected thrill through him. He takes Hannibal's hand off his neck then; positions it on his forehead pointedly: the leverage to fuck his throat will be better like this. He watches the acknowledgment gleam through his eyes.</p><p>Hannibal somehow still looks like a gentleman as he starts to fuck into Will's throat. Will can't quite look away. It feels good, too. The empathetic part of him is taking over. He knows every second of what Hannibal is feeling physically, and the look in his eye says a lot about his emotions, too. He can use that, but it doesn't mean he doesn't feel it. He hums softly, closing his eyes as Hannibal starts to rock faster.</p><p>He's moving in a bit of a trance now. Will feels the same, dizzied and anchored in turn. He watches through half-lidded eyes. He's going through the head-spinning emotions of controlled choking, and he has to reach to stroke himself, humming softly.</p><p>Hannibal makes a soft noise. "You like this," he observes. Not smugly, simply with interest.</p><p>Will glances up at him and gives him as much of a smile as he can.</p><p>"As do I," Hannibal murmurs. Though that much is obvious.</p><p>Obvious as in the way Will keeps stroking. He uses his other hand to guide Hannibal a little quicker: coherent is no fun.</p><p>Hannibal obliges him. His free hand braces the wall above the bed, lips parted on his breaths. His eyes are steady on Will. His upper lip twitches as if on a snarl. It's riveting. Will grips his hip tighter, nails digging in. He groans deep in his chest. Hannibal is finally losing some of his politeness. He's more interesting that way. And hotter, too.</p><p>It has Will in its grip. He laughs internally at himself, his own strokes quickening, damp slicking his chin and cheeks. He groans again, echoed by a noise from Hannibal, faint but drawn out. Letting his other hand creep down between his thighs, Will strokes at his soft perineum; palms his sack gently. He'd sigh if he could. Every inch of Hannibal feels somehow luxurious.</p><p>He feels him shift; falter just a moment. Hears his breath catch. That makes Will hum in encouragement.</p><p><em>Yes</em>, he thinks silently, <em>take what you want</em>.</p><p>He strokes his fingers a little further, just teasing, and groans at the way it makes Hannibal's hips kick.</p><p> He presses back just as eagerly. Will can feel him twitching in his throat; rocking faster.</p><p>Will traces lightly around his rim. Presses gently and feels that predictable stutter-gasp as Hannibal comes, heat flooding the thin skin of the condom against his tongue. For a moment, he goes lightheaded as Hannibal presses in, hard. Then he pulls out.</p><p>"Fuck," Will croaks. He feels so used. It's wonderful. He looks up at Hannibal; sees him taking in the mess he's made of Will. His eyes shine. He's pleased.</p><p>Will raises his eyebrows, faintly challenging. That's when Hannibal wraps a hand around him. His strokes are quick and assured, certainly not those of a novice. Will keens. Bridges into it, still savoring Hannibal's weight on his chest. He lets his head fall back.</p><p>"Tighter," he gasps.</p><p>Hannibal obeys quickly. It feels right; crushing. He's beyond pretending, for the moment, though he's not beyond control.</p><p>"I want your fingers, too," he mutters, arching pointedly.</p><p>"Yes," Hannibal murmurs, hand shifting. He has to slip off Will then; get ready and move between his knees.</p><p>It gives Will a better view of him. And better leverage to fuck himself on Hannibal's latex-covered fingers. He groans, grinding down.</p><p>"Perfect," he tells him, watching his expression go pleased. "Go on, Doctor."</p><p>Hannibal chuckles and does so. It's just as unerring as it was before. Will hisses softly, turning his face against the pillow and groaning his approval when Hannibal starts to stroke his cock as well. "Show me," he croons softly.</p><p>"So keep going," Will shoots back. It's hard to breathe, but he manages.</p><p>Hannibal smiles and does as he's bid, hand tightening on Will's cock, his fingers stroking in quicker. He's playing Will like a fine instrument. It's an entirely welcome break: Will's orgasms are rarely a priority with his clients. Some like to service him, of course. But that's usually with his foot on their face, or their hands tied. This is undeniably more intimate. He can't look at Hannibal for too long. He'll start thinking again. He'd prefer to feel, just for now.</p><p>The pressure in his belly is building, blooming like smoke. "Hannibal," he sighs.</p><p>"Yes, Will?"</p><p>"Don't stop."</p><p>"I won't, trust me." His voice is low, soothing. Will gets the feeling he's the one being catered to, and it stirs uneasiness in him suddenly.</p><p>"Make it good then," he says sharply.</p><p>Hannibal's brows quirk up. "You seemed to be enjoying it." He crooks his fingers illustratively.</p><p>Will hisses slightly. "Did I?"</p><p>"Do you want me to stop?"</p><p>"<em>No</em>."</p><p>"Close your eyes," Hannibal suggests. "Pay me no mind."</p><p><em>Close your eyes</em>.</p><p>Will does, but he can't quite get back to where he was before he realized how this looks. His breath curdles into a growl.</p><p>Hannibal's hands slow. "Will..."</p><p>"This isn't how it's supposed to go."</p><p>Carefully, Hannibal extricates himself. "I’ve made you uncomfortable. I apologize." He moves back, just enough that they're not touching.</p><p>Will sits up quickly, his own face burning.</p><p>"I'll be back in a minute," he mutters, tearing out of bed and stumbling for the bathroom.</p><p>He's not really sure he shouldn't leave. This has been a fucking disaster. He ought to credit the man his nightly payment, and just cut his losses, but that pricks his pride. He washes his hands and face quickly; helps himself to some mouthwash and just tries to breathe for a moment, thinking. He's only half-hard now.</p><p>He shouldn't leave. He should offer something. Another fucking orgasm without a side of his panic disorder. Hopefully Hannibal doesn't try to be understanding.</p><p>Will cleans up and then heads out. He sees Hannibal still lounging against the headboard, and offers him a brittle smile. Without a word, he climbs back on top of him, and bends to kiss his chest. For a moment, Hannibal tolerates this, though he’s stiff with surprise.</p><p>"Will…" he murmurs after a few seconds. “Stop.”</p><p>He does, sighing. "Do you want me to go?"</p><p>"Do you want to go?" Hannibal says, evenly.</p><p>"No," Will says stubbornly.</p><p>"Are you sure? The last thing I want is for-"</p><p>"You paid for the night. This doesn't normally happen, I'll be fine. I just got a little overwhelmed." He sets his jaw. "I suppose I should offer you the opportunity to retract your request."</p><p>"No," Hannibal says, simply. "I'm going to get us another drink, if that suits. And then you can sleep."</p><p>"I won't," Will retorts.</p><p>"May I, then? It's been a long day, and I'd like to rest a little before we… move on."</p><p>"All right," Will says quietly.</p><p>Hannibal doesn't seem angry, or even freaked out. Will moves carefully off of him to let him gracefully slink out of bed, moving to the dresser on the far wall, from which he produces two whiskey balloons and a bottle. A good one, Will can see even from here. He brings over the glasses, eyes warm. Will is unprepared for how solicitous he's being.</p><p>"Thank you," he murmurs, taking a glass and watching Hannibal slide back into the bed beside him.</p><p>"You're welcome. Did you have anyone you needed to check in with?"</p><p>How considerate of him. It's honestly unnerving. Will has the strange thought that Molly wouldn’t know there was anything wrong for hours, if he messaged her now saying everything was okay. Is everything not okay? He’s not so sure.</p><p>"Not tonight," he murmurs. He sips his drink. "This is good."</p><p>"Good," Hannibal replies. He seems quite at his leisure. He well might be: he at least got an orgasm out of this.</p><p>"What drew you to your current occupation?" he asks, mildly.</p><p>It doesn't sound judgmental, but Will isn't sure he'd honestly be able to tell.</p><p>"I started when moved to Baltimore, sort of an accident really. One of my professors invited me to a party, said he’d pay me. It went from there, with other people I met. I’m not good in… situations that require me to be sociable. I needed something flexible to stipend me through the rest of college, and it... worked for me. Didn't see any reason to stop after my other career options started to seem unrealistic."</p><p>“This isn’t sociable?”</p><p>“You’d be surprised. Most other people don’t expect me to talk as much as you do.”</p><p>"I see. And are you still studying?"</p><p>"Not at the minute."</p><p>“And your… professor… do you still have contact with him?”</p><p>Something about the edge in his voice brings a lump of worry to Will’s throat. “He had a heart attack, couple of years back. Passed away.”</p><p>“I see.”</p><p>“You see a lot. What else do you see?”</p><p>"You're obviously a very intelligent young man," Hannibal tells him. "I find it...pleasing."</p><p>"Do you?" Will raises an eyebrow.</p><p>"Very much so."</p><p>"You wanna pay for my PhD then?" Will mutters absently, sipping his drink again and looking at the small pile of books on the bedside. “That watch is worth a year, at least.”</p><p>"We could make an arrangement," Hannibal says in a perfectly reasonable tone. "If you were amenable."</p><p>Will's head snaps toward him at that, expression going skeptical without his permission. "Bullshit."</p><p>Hannibal's expression goes blank, and Will knows it's displeasure. "I don't say things I don't mean."</p><p>Will scowls, taking a big swig of his drink. "Everyone says things they don't mean."</p><p>"Do <em>you</em>, Will?"</p><p>"Plenty."</p><p>"Do you enjoy it?"</p><p>"I enjoy protecting myself." He smirks. "And I enjoy the money I make for being convincing."</p><p>"And here I am offering the opportunity for you to enjoy more."</p><p>"Yes," Will says noncommittally. They all start out like this, wanting to flash their wealth. Extended time together always results in it being withdrawn. Either that, or they start wanting things that are decidedly not on the menu. Will knows that this offer falls under faux intimacy. He thinks Hannibal knows that too.</p><p>"What is the hesitance?" Hannibal murmurs. "This isn't a case of installments. I'll give you the money, wire it to whichever school you choose, in full."</p><p>"It won't stop me from working," Will tells him idly.</p><p>"Why would that be any of my concern?"</p><p>Will studies him over the rim of his glass. "This isn't 'Pretty Woman', he warns him.</p><p>"Naturally."</p><p>Will shrugs. "You can do what you want with your money, but it doesn't mean you own me."</p><p>"I wouldn't want to."</p><p>Will doubts that. He drains his glass. "So you say."</p><p>Hannibal smiles slightly. He’s very beautiful, all the planes of his shoulders and chest on display, glowing in the lamplight.</p><p>"You either have a high opinion of yourself, or an exceptionally low opinion of me." He still doesn't sound offended, just curious.</p><p>"I just know people."</p><p>"You know normal people."</p><p>"Trust me, not many people I meet are normal."</p><p>"Consider that it would please me," he says simply. "I have no children, no partner, but plenty of means. I'd like to use them to further your academic career."</p><p>"Why not," Will sighs.</p><p>"Think about it," Hannibal says reasonably. "You don't have to make a decision yet."</p><p>Will eyes the empty glass in his hand.</p><p>"Another?" Hannibal offers.</p><p>"Why not," Will says again. The first one certainly helped him relax. Hannibal tops it up graciously. He refills his own as well. Slowly, Will starts to calm. To feel warm, even. His gaze drifts over to Hannibal once more, still curious despite himself.</p><p>"How do you want it, next time?</p><p>Hannibal smiles. "Surprise me."</p><p>"No, <em>tell</em> me," Will orders.</p><p>Hannibal sighs, looking away. "Are you always like this?"</p><p>"Maybe we just have a special relationship."</p><p>Silence at that. Hannibal takes another sip of his drink, and then gets up, taking up a robe from the end of the bed and pulling it on. He goes to the adjacent washroom, and Will hears water running. When Hannibal returns, his glass is empty and he smells of mint and cinnamon.</p><p>"Let's sleep for a while," he tells Will.</p><p>"Sure," Will drawls. He knows he won't sleep. Not with fear crawling around in the pit of his belly. He can be patient, though.</p><p>He watches Hannibal settle; watches his face go smooth. The silence in the bedroom is oppressive, the dark crowding in on Will from all sides. Hannibal’s breaths are deep and even, and eventually, when Will stirs, he doesn’t react. Will waits even longer to be certain, before quietly slipping out of bed.</p><p>He shrugs his shirt back on, buttoning it as he pads silently into the hall. His shorts too. He wants a glass of water. And just to be alone, honestly. Something in his chest is fluttering, uncomfortable. Nearly itchy, and he doesn't like to ignore that feeling. Hannibal's cool blankness has started his mind working; his instincts speak with a whisper and they say <em>what if he's the one who's been killing them?</em></p><p>It isn’t the first time he’s thought it, not really. Perhaps it had occurred to him that first night at the opera. Will’s stop-start education has taught him enough: Hannibal fits the profile of someone who might want to kill sex-workers. Wealthy, white, male, middle-aged, part of polite society – surgical experience, if his comments about what kind of doctor he is were anything to go by.</p><p>With his head whirling, Will descends the stairs silently. He's pricked with nervous sweat, and Hannibal's pristine, eerie home is doing nothing to dispel the nerves. In the kitchen, he pauses to look around.</p><p>Magnetic knife strip. Pantry. Steel butcher's station. Fancy. Sterile. Professional.</p><p>Will goes to help himself to a glass of water, running the water. He has a headache starting, and wonders absently if Hannibal has any aspirin. He starts opening cabinets. Unsuccessful, he moves to look around downstairs for a bathroom. He finds a huge pantry, a utility room, and then, he finds the basement stairs. At the bottom there’s a large, imposing door.</p><p>There won't be any meds in the basement, he reasons, but he's already stepping down. He can't resist. Something compels him; some terrible curiosity.</p><p>He takes the stairs slowly, the tile cold underfoot, finding a light switch at the top that barely illuminates the bottom of the stair. The door is heavy stainless steel, with a formidable looking keypad - but when Will tries it, it's not actually locked.</p><p>"What the fuck," he mutters. He knows, in the pit of his stomach, he shouldn't go in. He knows lots of things. That's never actually stopped him. With his heart in his throat, Will opens the door, and steps into the frigid basement. It's - industrial, is his first thought. With the distinct smell of <em>meat</em>.</p><p>"Fuck," he says again, turning in a hasty circle. But it's got him now, and he has to go further.</p><p>He sees a run of four large, industrial freezers, and he steps closer, breath catching. The lid of the first lifts easily enough, the steam taking a moment to clear. He tries not to recoil, but he knows what he's looking at. His breath rushes up, leaving in bursts. There is hair in the freezer. Human hair. He suspects it will still be attached to a head.</p><p>He doesn't close it, but moves along the wall, holding on for support and startling at the rattle of chains. It's tiled, he realizes again. Drains in the floor. Tools stowed under benches. Stainless steel, like the butcher's station in the kitchen. It's a maze down here, and despite the high, trilling note of terror playing in Will's mind, he continues, feet icy on the tile. In another room, a large furnace. More chains. Vats of chemicals on shelves, and, when he turns, a surgeon's slab, accessorized with the operating theater accoutrements: scalpels, pliers, boneclippers, all laid out on surgery scrubs.</p><p>He's found a killer after all, he thinks dizzily.</p><p>Behind him, the light suddenly shuts off, and he freezes. He can only see the barest rectangle in the blackness. Within it, a familiar silhouette.</p><p>"I've called the cops," Will says quickly, "don't come near me."</p><p>"Your phone is upstairs, Will," Hannibal says calmly. He sounds closer, and Will presses himself back against the wall.</p><p>
  <em>"I said stay back."</em>
</p><p>"What do you imagine I'll do?"</p><p>"What you did to the others," Will says, feeling blindly along the wall, cringing when he impacts chains. Still, he can try to use them as a weapon.</p><p>"Which others?" Hannibal asks.</p><p>"We are standing in a fucking basement of nightmares, don't pretend you know nothing about the call-girl killings."</p><p>"I won't claim ignorance," Hannibal replies, "but nor will I claim responsibility."</p><p>"Yeah, in case I escape and testify." Will is desperate now, still side-stepping in the pitch black, back to the wall. He rounds a corner, trying to keep Hannibal's whereabouts in his mind; keep him talking. The basement seems endless, and he thinks he must be getting close to some kind of exit when he touches something else on the wall - something soft, and cold, that moves with the creak of chains.</p><p>"Ah," Hannibal says. "You've found an acquaintance." And suddenly the room is flooded with cold light once again.</p><p>Will lurches back with a barely-stifled cry. It's the man from the opera who had propositioned Will in the toilets. And he is most decidedly dead, though not currently dismembered. Hung from the chains, upside down. <em>Draining</em>, Will realizes, his throat cut. Then his eyes snap back to Hannibal, heart in his throat.</p><p>He's in his robe still, expression perfectly calm.</p><p>"Killing sex workers," he murmurs, "would be both hypocritical and unspeakably rude of me."</p><p>Will's eyes dart to the dead man aging in his basement, illustratively. “But taking the Hippocratic oath wasn’t?”</p><p>Hannibal follows his gaze. "I think you and I ought to be able to agree that <em>he</em> was unspeakably rude."</p><p>"That's your gauge?"</p><p>"Is it worse than any others you've heard?"</p><p>"I haven't heard any others for <em>killing people</em>."</p><p>"Oh, but haven't you thought of any?"</p><p>Will's teeth grind. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"</p><p>"I'd trust your imagination to be a bit more vivid than all of that, Will."</p><p>Will is shaking, he knows. He can't control it, a mixture of cold and adrenaline.</p><p>"You were going to kill me," he mutters.</p><p>"Was I?"</p><p>"Were you?"</p><p>"I'm not intending to now," Hannibal murmurs.</p><p>"Forgive me if that's not much of a comfort." He bares his teeth. "Also - <em>why</em>?"</p><p>"You intrigue me. I'd like to see you succeed. I could tell you were afraid, but you didn't try to run."</p><p>No, Will supposes he didn't.</p><p>"Is that why you left the door open down here?" he whispers. "So you wouldn't have to struggle, if you were carrying me?" He refuses to look away from Hannibal's face.</p><p>"Yes," he says simply."I think ahead."</p><p>"Thought you said you didn't kill sex workers?"</p><p>"As a rule."</p><p>"So why was I on the list?" He can feel himself shaking still.</p><p>Hannibal visibly considers him. "This isn't the place. Let's go upstairs, and I'll get you a drink."</p><p>Will must be crazy, to even consider it.</p><p>"I want to leave," he says quickly.</p><p>"I wish you wouldn't."</p><p>Will swallows. "Why?"</p><p>"The night is still young," Hannibal says smoothly.</p><p>Shivering, Will looks around, aware in his bones that Hannibal stands between him and the only exit – other than the Bilco doors he spied, chained from the outside. He looks the man in his eyes, and what strikes him is the calm; how utterly sane he is.</p><p>"Why do you do this?" he whispers.</p><p>"You might as well ask why God allows suffering," Hannibal replies.</p><p>"Because he's a sadist?" It comes out like a laugh. Even laughing, his voice is still shaking.</p><p>Hannibal tilts his head. "You don't think so?"</p><p>Will absolutely does. It doesn't comfort him, though.</p><p>"So you think you're God?" he challenges.</p><p>"Not at all. Merely a fan of his work."</p><p>"Well, I'm his work," Will shoots back.</p><p>That triggers a slow smile. "You certainly felt like it."</p><p>Will grits his teeth. So did he.</p><p>"Come." Hannibal proffers a hand. "I've no more room in my freezer."</p><p>Will is freezing enough already. His feet feel like ice. Hesitantly, he takes it, and Hannibal leads him up the stairs.</p><p>"Coffee?" he offers politely, when they reach the kitchen.</p><p>"Sure," Will says, on autopilot. He leans against the counter to wait. He's within reach of the knife strip, which he's sure Hannibal notices. He doesn't seem at all concerned, which burns Will with irritation. He's sure Hannibal noticed that too. "I want to leave," Will reasserts.</p><p>"Have some coffee, and then I'll call you a taxi if you'd like."</p><p>Alarms ringing shrilly in his ears at the second denial, Will looks at the knives again, and Hannibal moves toward them, selecting the largest. When Will jerks back though, he's offering the knife handle-first.</p><p>"Take it," he orders softly. "If it will make you feel better."</p><p>Will does, slowly, before moving to sit at the counter. "You'll let me leave," he says again.</p><p>"I will."</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"I want to see what you do."</p><p>"Am I in danger, Hannibal?" Will asks sharply.</p><p>"I just handed you a knife. I'd say I'm the one in danger." He's focused on the steampunk looking coffee maker, hair soft and glossy.</p><p>"Your level of danger hinges on the presumption that I'd use it."</p><p>"As does yours. You have the equipment, and so do I."</p><p>"I'd say only one of us has displayed the predilection."</p><p>"That we know of."</p><p>Will is <em>insulted</em>. Isn't he? Hannibal slides him a cup of coffee. It smells amazing. He sips it and it tastes amazing. Hannibal sips his own.</p><p>"What if what I do is leave town and never come back?" Will asks casually.</p><p>"Then it will be a disappointing end to a promising meeting."</p><p>"And what promise do you see?" Will murmurs.</p><p>"Merely the potential for us to enjoy one another, and the benefits of our mutual silence."</p><p>"You still <em>want</em> me," Will says.</p><p>"I do."</p><p>"How many have there been?" Will murmurs.</p><p>"How many what, Will?"</p><p>"In your basement?"</p><p>"I couldn't say."</p><p>That's... terrifying. Will swallows. His stomach flutters with something like reluctant fascination.</p><p>If only he could react normally, to anything. But he almost never does.</p><p>"And what do I get?"</p><p>"We've already discussed a few options." He sips his coffee again delicately. "I'm sure some of your benefits go without saying."</p><p>"The money, you mean."</p><p>"No, not the money."</p><p>"So you think you're that good of a fuck, Doctor?"</p><p>"I have it on good authority." His expression is knowing.</p><p>Will curls his lip. "Don't expect me to thank you for sparing my life," he growls.</p><p>"I wouldn't, of course. I'd only ask that you return the favor."</p><p>"Only?"</p><p>"Only." He takes another sip of his coffee. "We could, however, go back upstairs. If you like."</p><p>Will looks down at his own cup.</p><p>"But of course," Hannibal continues. "You wanted to go home?"</p><p>"No," Will murmurs. "I want to stay." He's not sure about it, until he says it. Then it hits him like a clenched fist.</p><p>Clearly intrigued, Hannibal tilts his head. "After you, then," he murmurs.</p><p>Will rises, taking his cup, and precedes him upstairs. He takes the knife, too. His entire body prickles with awareness. Each step tells him he should know better. His knuckles are white on the knife.</p><p>The heat coursing through his body tells him something else. When he gets back to the bedroom, he turns to face Hannibal. He still looks exactly the same, neat and soft in his satiny robe. The fall of his fine, slivering hair is so tempting, like the impulse to pet a wolf. Fine tremors run through Will's limbs.</p><p>"You don't have to be afraid, Will," Hannibal murmurs.</p><p>"If I'm not," Will grits, "then what am I?"</p><p>He watches Hannibal's chin raise; the faint twitch as his nostrils flare. "Feeling conflicted, I imagine."</p><p>Will laughs sharply. "That's one way of putting it."</p><p>"Shall we try again?" Hannibal suggests pleasantly. "You can keep the knife if you like."</p><p>Will bites his lip. "Fine," he breathes.</p><p>He watches Hannibal move toward the bed and slip off his robe. He's nude underneath, as sleek and dangerous as a big cat. Now that Will <em>understands</em>. He slips in under the sheets. "Will you join me?" he murmurs.</p><p>A few beats of silence, and Will goes. He tucks the kitchen knife under the pillow, and climbs gracefully to straddle Hannibal. They gaze at one another for a moment, and then Will leans in, albeit tentatively, to kiss his neck. Hannibal is warm, his pulse steady. He smooths a hand up Will's back slowly.</p><p>"How lovely you are," he murmurs.</p><p>"Lovelier now than hung by my ankles in the basement?"</p><p>"You don't belong there," Hannibal tells him.</p><p>"Where do I belong?"</p><p>"Anywhere you like, but I do like you precisely where you are."</p><p>"Show me," Will murmurs.</p><p>"How shall I do that?" Hannibal replies, the same wandering hand cupping his cheek, spearing into his curls.</p><p>"You're the imaginative one here."</p><p>"Give me your hands, Will," Hannibal suggests.</p><p>Will does, albeit hesitantly. Hannibal guides one to his throat, the other to his cock, soft now but showing signs of stirring when Will touches the velvety skin. He curls his fingers reflexively. Strokes Hannibal, not entirely gently. It's only slightly heartening to see his lip curl. Will almost thinks he's scenting again.</p><p>"Put your hands on the headboard," he mutters.</p><p>Hannibal does, obediently enough.</p><p>"Don't move them," Will commands, stroking quicker now. He leans just enough weight on his upper hand to make its presence known.</p><p>Hannibal watches him, dark eyes liquid. He doesn't make a sound, other than his breaths. But he's getting harder; doing as Will asked. Soon it will be enough; soon Will can ride him again.</p><p>He leans in to bite gently above his fingers. Not too gently; he's not sure Hannibal deserves that. It's rewarding to feel him tense beneath him. He knows Hannibal is stronger than him, but he still feels in control. He gives a sharp little squeeze of his teeth, and Hannibal hums against his throat. Will responds with a squeeze of his fingers. He's hard now, hot against Will's palm. Of course he likes that, Will thinks faintly. He bites again, viciously.</p><p>This time, Hannibal moans. His hands don't move, though Will sees the tendons in his arms tighten. When Will lets go, the skin flushes scarlet.</p><p>"What were you looking for, when you propositioned me?" He says it in a faint growl.</p><p>"I simply thought you were... interesting."</p><p>"Oh, <em>interesting</em>," Will purrs. "That's a nice word for 'attractive enough for me to overlook other factors'."</p><p>"You are, in fact. But that is not what I meant."</p><p>"What is it you meant?"</p><p>"I could tell you were quite intelligent, and somewhat... unconventional."</p><p>"'Quite'." Will bites him again.</p><p>"I admire both of those qualities," Hannibal breathes.</p><p>"Yes, unconventionality does seem to rank quite highly in your interests." He leans harder on his top hand. Hannibal's breath thins. His eyes are nearly black.</p><p>"Unconventional methods... yield more genuine results," he whispers.</p><p>"How are you feeling about my methods now?" Will asks.</p><p>"Very pleased," Hannibal admits.</p><p>"Do you want me?" Will murmurs.</p><p>Hannibal smiles at him softly. "Very much."</p><p>"Then stay still," Will says, silky smooth.</p><p>He circles his hips to get in position, getting the lube and a rubber from Hannibal's ridiculous stash. It's work of moments to prep him, and then he slowly draws the knife out from under the pillow and sets it delicately onto his chest, point against the hollow of his throat.</p><p>"You can touch me," he says delicately, "but if you try anything, I will take you with me."</p><p>"I understand," Hannibal breathes. His breath hitches when Will lowers himself onto his cock with a low exhalation.</p><p>Will feels it like a shock up his spine. He's hard himself, despite everything, and alert all over; heated in a way he wasn't before. Every nerve is firing, telling him of the immense pleasure in store. He's panting already as he rises on his knees, sighing at the slow drag of Hannibal inside him. The knife gleams under Hannibal's chin.</p><p>Hannibal slowly unwraps his hands from the headboard. He touches Will's hips, lips parted. Then he urges them in their slow roll.</p><p>"Fuck," Will breathes. It takes him over just as easily this time. It's better, in fact. He feels a rising, tentative sense of power. Even more so when he touches two fingers to the silver hilt and presses gently.</p><p>Hannibal tilts his chin up to relieve the pressure, eyes glittering. "Tell me what you want, Will."</p><p>"I want you to go faster."</p><p>"Then I will."</p><p>His hands coax Will quicker. His lips part, seeming to scent the air. Will gasps, steadying himself with one hand against the headboard, letting himself ride quicker with the momentum of Hannibal's hands. He feels so full. He feels <em>alive</em>. Suddenly so aware of it. Like every drop of blood has a nerve. Like each nerve is singing. Like Hannibal is playing them.</p><p>The idea of ending up in his freezer seems entirely distant now. They fit too well together. This thing between them has grown teeth - and they won't let go. <em>Will</em> won't let go. He wants to know what other secrets lie in Hannibal's basement. He thinks he can convince him to tell. Maybe even to show him.</p><p>"Will," Hannibal says in a low voice.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"Come for me."</p><p>"Don't tell me what to do." He lets his eyes flash with hostility.</p><p>Hannibal actually laughs. "Or what, lovely boy?"</p><p>Will presses with the knife, so Hannibal has to jerk his chin up.</p><p>"Is it arousing, then? To think of slitting my throat?" he whispers.</p><p>Will swallows hard, heart pounding. He's just trying to get off. "Shut up."</p><p>Hannibal's lips curve. “The blood would be hot, when it hit your skin. You would look so lovely, dressed in it.”</p><p>“Shut up,” Will repeats. His voice wavers.</p><p>"Very well," Hannibal murmurs.</p><p>"Is it arousing to you?" Will mutters. It certainly doesn't seem to be the opposite.</p><p>Hannibal wets his lips; smiles. "Of course."</p><p>His hips work up, slow and smooth, and Will rolls into the motion. He groans. He's leaning his weight on the knife, and Hannibal looks a little uncomfortable, but certainly not enough to stop. His hands are on Will, and he makes no move to ease him back. In fact, they urge him on. Will rides him quicker, breaths rushing. He lets his head drop back.</p><p>"Fuck," he breathes. He feels electrified. Everything feels delicious.</p><p>Hannibal urges him on with his body. The pressure builds. Will cries out like he nearly never does. When Hannibal's hand curls around his leaking cock, he bucks hard into it. He cries again.</p><p>"That's it," Hannibal murmurs.</p><p>"Yes, yes -" his voice breaks.</p><p>But Hannibal's voice feels like it's burrowing in like a maggot, and Will puts a hand over his mouth as he fucks himself to completion in a rush. Then he has to hold on to the headboard as Hannibal bucks up hard.</p><p>He tosses the knife aside in the fray; clutches at Hannibal as he feels him come. His nails dig in instead. Hannibal grasps him in turn, breath hissing out through his teeth. His lips part. He looks at Will's mouth, and his want is so tangible that it gives Will a fierce kick of pleasure.</p><p>He smiles. Hannibal leans in, and kisses under his jaw. It's slow, deliberate. Will tenses, but endures it. He half expects to feel teeth. But instead, Hannibal caresses down his spine. He inhales slowly.</p><p>Will pushes his face away, not gently, and slips off him. "Don't do that, please."</p><p>He watches Hannibal sit up and deal with the condom. He still looks amused rather than irritated, which is probably just as well. At least Will said "please."</p><p>Still feeling shivery with residual adrenaline, Will saunters into the en suite to clean up, washing the sweat off his face and neck in the sink. He's glad to be alone for a moment. It's hard to process all his fear and pleasure. Both are still very much present in the room.</p><p>He takes several deep breaths; meets his own gaze in the mirror. He's not letting this man out of his sight. He can't. He needs to just make it through the night. He has the switchblade in his bag. Hell, he still has a kitchen knife on the bed.</p><p>With a shudder, he rinses his mouth out again and heads back into the bedroom. Hannibal takes his place in the bathroom. It gives Will time to get out the knife; slip it under his pillow. Something electric chases down his spine again at the feel of the metal. Holding it against Hannibal's throat had been unlike anything he's ever felt before. He's not anxious to chase down that rabbit hole, though. He just curls on his side, playing at relaxed. He wonders what else Hannibal might ask for tonight.</p><p>He watches him now as he returns, slipping under the covers and turning on his side, watching Will. No post-orgasmic haze with this one, then. Though his eyes are still shining, smile soft. He looks pleased, Will supposes he should be grateful.</p><p>"Go to sleep," Will grouses.</p><p>"Of course. You as well." He smiles wider though. "No fear for chastising a predator, Will?"</p><p>"No," Will says coolly.</p><p>"Glad to hear it."</p><p>So smug. Will wants to - he's not sure what he wants. He stiffens when Hannibal trails delicate fingers down his bare flank.</p><p>"Rest, lovely boy."</p><p>"I'm resting."</p><p>"It doesn't look like it."</p><p>"Hard to relax with someone staring at you."</p><p>"I see. Shall I refrain?"</p><p>Will sighs. "I'm just keyed up."</p><p>"That's only to be expected. I suppose you're hoping I'll tell you to go?"</p><p>"I honestly was more expecting you to kill me once I was asleep."</p><p>"I wouldn't have let you out of the basement if that were the case," Hannibal says pragmatically. "But if it helps you, Will, if I make a promise, I always keep it. Integrity is of utmost importance to me. I promise I have no intention of harming you." It sounds utterly believable, reasonable even.</p><p>"Unless provoked," Will intuits.</p><p>"You seem to find pleasure in provoking me," Hannibal points out.</p><p>"There are different kinds of provocation."</p><p>"Does your provocation have a different goal?"</p><p>"Certainly not to be murdered."</p><p>"Granted. But you are evading the question?"</p><p>"My line of work promotes dehumanization. The illusion of powerlessness. I want to combat those notions."</p><p>"Please accept my assurance that I see you as both human and powerful," Hannibal murmurs.</p><p>Will chews the inside of his lip. "What happens after tonight?"</p><p>"I believe I've already expressed interest in a standing appointment."</p><p>Will nods, slowly. "And... in exchange for my silence..?"</p><p>"There is the manner of tuition," Hannibal murmurs. "Quid pro quo." At Will's silence, he continues. "And I will find the person responsible for the death of your colleagues, so that you and your housemate might rest easier."</p><p>"Oh, just like that?" Will says faintly.</p><p>"Just like that." His confidence is palpable.</p><p>Will licks his lips. "When you find him..."</p><p>"Are you asking what I intend?"</p><p>"I'm asking if I can - see."</p><p>"Observe, or participate?" Hannibal asks archly.</p><p>"Can I think about it?"</p><p>"I hope you do. It won't be long," Hannibal murmurs.</p><p>Will nods, and when Hannibal reaches out again, he doesn't flinch this time. He traces down the bridge of Will's nose.</p><p>"What a peculiar creature you are," he murmurs. It sounds more admiring than anything. It sounds like he recognizes something in Will. It sends a fresh chill down his spine. "Ever think you're different, Will?" Hannibal murmurs.</p><p>"I know I am," he whispers.</p><p>"It can be lonely, can't it? Burdensome, at times."</p><p>Slowly, Will nods. He hates being stung by insight, but he recognizes it. He feels it deep in his bones.</p><p>"No one to tell your truth to."</p><p>"How long have you been lying?" Hannibal murmurs.</p><p>"Since I learned telling the truth didn't work."</p><p>"I imagine that was early on."</p><p>"I could say the same for you."</p><p>"You could indeed," Hannibal murmurs.</p><p>Will sighs softly. He's relaxing slightly. Hannibal strokes his face again.</p><p>"Sleep, sweet boy."</p><p>It has the tone of an order, regardless. Will closes his eyes, hand still clenched on the knife under the pillow. Macabre comfort item in hand, he forces himself to try and sleep. It's easier than he'd like.</p><p>*</p><p>Will sleeps for several hours, until the sunrise is a faint glow on the horizon. He stirs awake when Hannibal's touch rouses him, but he thinks Hannibal is still asleep, merely reaching out in dreams.</p><p>Will blinks into awareness, trained to be quick about it. He peers at Hannibal; sees his eyelids flickering in deep sleep. His hand wraps around Will's bicep. Will lets him shift closer, but he dodges when Hannibal's lips skid across his cheek.</p><p>“For god’s sake,” he grouses.</p><p>"Apologies," Hannibal murmurs, sounding very much half asleep.</p><p>"Wake up," Will orders softly. Hannibal opens his eyes slowly. Will can see them glint even in the gloom. "You wish to be close to me, even in your sleep," Will murmurs. "So I'm going to get close."</p><p>He sees the eyes alight with a smile. "Oh?"</p><p>"Turn on your stomach," Will murmurs.</p><p>Hannibal obeys immediately. He seems entirely at ease when Will slides on top of him. He's warm and solid, feeling sleepy and malleable. Will bites at his shoulders and hears him sigh. He pushes his hips up.</p><p>"Promising," Will teases, feeling out the lube on the nightstand from last night. He's pleased that Hannibal doesn't have any hang ups about this. That would have been tedious. Will enjoys fucking when he can get it. Especially someone who looks like Hannibal, all moral scruples aside.</p><p>He purrs gently, "You look so pretty like this for me." It's true, too.</p><p>Hannibal makes a soft, indulgent noise. He arches his back gently as Will presses his thumbs into the dimples at the base of his spine.</p><p>"You want my fingers?" Will asks softly.</p><p>"Yes, Will."</p><p>"Good." Will opens up a condom; sheaths a finger in one and slicks it. Covered up and slick, he circles Hannibal's hole. His teeth skim the back of Hannibal's shoulder as he starts to press in.</p><p>Hannibal makes a low noise. His hips bridge up again. It eases the angle, lets Will slide in deeper.</p><p>"That's it," he says quietly, spreading his other hand against the small of his back, "good."</p><p>He works his finger slowly deeper, crooking it to rub gently. Hannibal's shivery sigh makes him smile mirthlessly. He's unfurling, waking to it, and - to be truthful, it does please Will to have the reins. He strokes a little quicker, delighted to feel the shift of Hannibal's powerful body under his thighs.</p><p>"Will," Hannibal murmurs, "I don't require a warm up."</p><p>Will does. "Part of the service," he says pertly.</p><p>"You don't need to convince me," Hannibal breathes.</p><p>"Of what exactly?"</p><p>"Of your skills, dear boy."</p><p>"Just trying to make you feel good." Will keeps moving. "Stop thinking so much."</p><p>"Yes sir," Hannibal huffs.</p><p>Will bites back a smile. "Thatta boy." He coos it with a hint of acid, knowing Hannibal likes it.</p><p>Sure enough, the little laugh comes, turning into a groan when Will slips a second finger into the condom and strokes in with both. He can press more insistently now, tease over his prostate. Hannibal makes a low, urgent noise, and Will tucks a hand beneath him to stroke his cock, already heavy and thick.</p><p>"Nice," he murmurs.</p><p>"Glad you approve." He sounds breathy; Will enjoys it.</p><p>"I do." He punctuates it with a few quick, smooth thrusts of his fingers until Hannibal groans. "That was pretty," Will croons. "I hope you do it again when I'm inside you."</p><p>"Why don't you find out?" Hannibal says, delicately.</p><p>"Yes, I think I will," he replies. Extracting his fingers gently, he prepares himself, aware of Hannibal's eyes on him. "Hands and knees.”</p><p>Gracefully, Hannibal obeys. Will lines up, squaring his weight. His hands bracket Hannibal's hips as he aligns; presses in. He makes it slow and steady. Feels Hannibal bear up for it, breathing sharp, his spine a graceful curve.</p><p>When Will bottoms out, he feels the reflexive clench and shiver. He grinds in before pulling back and repeating it.</p><p>"Will..." the gasp is low and reverent.</p><p>"Yes, Doctor?"</p><p>"You’re perfect," Hannibal whispers.</p><p>"Of course I am. Worth every penny. And don't you feel so good?" Will puts his hands on the headboard and snaps his hips, deep and slow. "Are you going to moan for me again?" he whispers.</p><p>"Carry on, and find out," Hannibal grits.</p><p>"Is that a challenge?"</p><p>"If that'll help motivate you."</p><p>It will, is the truth of the matter. Will bares his teeth and moves faster.</p><p>He strokes in quicker, nudging Hannibal's thighs wide. Shifting his hands against the bracket of his thighs to angle his hips, he concentrates his thrusts. He knows he's hit the spot when he hears a strangled gasp.</p><p>"There we go," he breathes, and keeps rocking. He goes as deep as he can with his next thrusts. Hannibal's breath comes out in bursts. Will presses down on him, until they're both flat on the bed, Will holding Hannibal's wrists above his head as his hips work. He's rolling deep, surging hard.</p><p>He turns his cheek against Hannibal's nape and gasps as he grinds in. It's too intimate, too close, but it's <em>good</em>. He's not sure he's ever felt something so good. Hannibal is breathing hard beneath him, vocal and needy. Still not a moan. Will braces his arms under his chest and snaps his hips.</p><p>"You fuck like a dream, you know," he mutters into Hannibal's ear. "So soft and hot and tight for me, taking every inch-"</p><p>Now, he moans.</p><p>"That's it," Will hisses against his ear, "perfect..."</p><p>His hips piston quick. Hannibal makes another choked, helpless noise. It's like fucking music. Will has to acknowledge, with a grimace of pain, that he's entirely compromised. He's done what he's not meant to do. He's done a lot of things he's not meant to do. It doesn't make it any easier to stop.</p><p>He smothers his doubt between Hannibal's shoulder blades as he fucks in with short, sharp thrusts, revelling in the way Hannibal reacts. He's moaning soft and muffled into his arm now, hips cupped upward.</p><p><em>"Will, Will, Will-" </em>His voice is ragged on the vowels.</p><p>"You gonna come?" Will grins against his skin, sweat making them slick. "I want you to."</p><p>"Will," he groans again.</p><p>"Mm? What is it?" He bites at his nape.</p><p>"I want to come," Hannibal whispers.</p><p>"You can come," Will tells him graciously, "if you can come on this cock." He spreads his hands to cover Hannibal's.</p><p>"I can," Hannibal murmurs, voice thready.</p><p>"Good boy," Will croons, pistoning his hips quicker. He squeezes the strong wrists, rolls them in again and again.</p><p>Hannibal is panting harder now, craning his hips up and tensing his thigh muscles. His back is curved like a bow. Will fits against him like a bracket, just the barest slice of space opening up between them as he fucks in. Hannibal feels so soft now, the joining of their bodies making slick, sharp sounds. He doesn't resist Will's hold, either. He's shivery, pliant beneath him, just the tension in his spine and thighs showing he's close; the little spasms Will feels inside him. Will grinds in again.</p><p>"Will," Hannibal slurs it now, "that's... don't stop."</p><p>"Gonna come?"</p><p>"Yes," Hannibal promises.</p><p>"Moan for me one more time," Will purrs into his ear. He's grinding deeper and faster still, breath puffing against Hannibal's throat. He knows he's close. When Hannibal clenches down on his cock, it takes everything he has not to come. But he has to fuck him through it. Has to feel the way it <em>shakes</em> Hannibal, his hands clenching and unclenching beneath Will's. He can feel his lips curling in a grin.</p><p>Hannibal cries out roughly when Will puts his hands on his shoulders instead; pushes himself up to fuck himself to completion with quick, slapping thrusts. He spills with a groan, holding himself as deep as he can.</p><p>Feeling Hannibal's answering clench, his low moan, is enough to make him bare his teeth in a grin. Hannibal will feel that for a while. Easing back, Will peers at his handiwork, grinning at the mess Hannibal has made of himself on the sheets below.</p><p>"Good boy," he says again.</p><p>Hannibal makes a short, amused noise, and stays put while Will goes to get something to clean him up with. Lazy looks good on him, unfortunately. He's stunning, a reclining nude when Will returns, classically rendered. Even wiping lube and come off him feels like an act of devotion. It's helped along by the way Hannibal watches him. Thoroughly satisfied, faintly admiring. Will waits for him to comment.</p><p>"It's a tragic misfortune that I cannot kiss you."</p><p>"Is it?" Will says, tone unimpressed.</p><p>"I'm afraid so." Hannibal closes his eyes.</p><p>"And how does Doctor Hannibal Lecter handle misfortune?"</p><p>"He overcomes it."</p><p>"I'd be fascinated to know how you'd do that."</p><p>"In time, I'll show you." He sounds confident.</p><p>Will just scoffs. This client is a mistake, but not one Will can unmake. He's not sure he cares to, if he truly examines himself. It's frustrating.</p><p>"Time to go back to sleep?" Hannibal says, all innocence.</p><p>"It's not that early," Will points out.</p><p>Hannibal sighs slightly. "I will tip generously to be able to go back to sleep."</p><p>Ridiculous. "Fine," Will sighs. He slides back into Hannibal's admittedly lush bed. It is <em>slightly</em> early. He senses that he's being tested.</p><p>He can be indulgent, he supposes. He'll keep Hannibal indulged and see what he gets in return. Tuition fees seem to be the least of it. How Hannibal knows exactly how to intrigue him...</p><p>He thinks of the body in the basement, and shivers. Had he dreamed it all? Some strange fever? No, he's sure it's real. When he closes his eyes, he sees it. The man from the opera, Jennings' friend, hanging - <em>draining</em>, really. It doesn't disgust him like he thought. The only fear he'd felt had been for himself. That might take a while to assuage.</p><p>Despite his whirling thoughts, he's getting groggy, and he twitches a little as the sensation of falling hits him. Hannibal's hand curves over the back of his neck. Will relaxes, and falls asleep.</p><p>*</p><p>Will's second awakening involves the scent of coffee. He looks over at the cup on the side, beside the gleaming watch face, humming appreciatively as he leans to sip it. Hannibal is not in the room, but a stack of fresh towels is sat on the corner of the bed. Will takes the hint, and gets cleaned and dressed. He only has his suit to put on, but it's not terribly rumpled. He fastens his watch, but puts the tie in his pocket.</p><p>When he goes downstairs, it's with his knife in his pocket; Hannibal's in his hand to return to the magnetic strip. Hannibal watches him do it with what seems like his typical calm.</p><p>"Good morning. Again," Will murmurs.</p><p>"Good morning, Will." Hannibal sips his own glass mug of coffee. "Are you hungry?" Before Will can answer, Hannibal glances up at him. "You must be. Come and sit down."</p><p>"I don't want to inconvenience you," Will tells him. "The coffee was enough."</p><p>"It's not an inconvenience."</p><p>"Then I'll order a cab for half an hour?" Will asks.</p><p>"By all means."</p><p>Will doesn't feel as relieved as he'd have expected. The knowing look in Hannibal's eye is almost irritating.</p><p>"I'll make you an omelet," he murmurs. "Did you sleep well?"</p><p>"Fine, thanks. Did you?"</p><p>"Oh, quite well, thank you." He flashes Will a little smile. "Morning awakenings aside."</p><p>"You didn't like your wake up call, Doctor?"</p><p>"Did it seem like I liked it?"</p><p>"Yes, in fact it did."</p><p>Hannibal smiles, whisking eggs deftly. "I did. You are quite the force of nature, Will."</p><p>"I've heard that before."</p><p>"Nevertheless, I am sincere."</p><p>"Thank you," Will says, not buying a word. He watches Hannibal effortlessly flip the golden omelet.</p><p>"You're welcome," he murmurs, sliding it neatly onto the plate. He sets it in front of Will along with a gleaming silver fork.</p><p>"And thank you for this." Picking up the fork, Will cuts off a mouthful, watching Hannibal from the corner of his eye. Hannibal is watching him right back. There seems to be a charge between them. It's not fear. Not exactly. Something snarling. Something both of them acknowledge.</p><p>"This is delicious," Will tells him.</p><p>"I'd love to cook for you again some time," Hannibal replies.</p><p>"I'm sure you will at some point." Will takes pleasure in being noncommittal. He thinks Hannibal knows it's pettiness, because he smiles.</p><p>"I will look forward to it in my solitary moments, then."</p><p>"Quiet evenings in the abattoir," Will says under his breath.</p><p>"Oh, it is rarely quiet," Hannibal replies. "I will listen to Puccini and think of you."</p><p>That sends a shiver ricocheting down his spine. Will watches him for a moment, and then nods. "See that you do."</p><p>Hannibal approaches him, slowly. When Will raises his chin, nearly cautious, definitely defiant, Hannibal reaches out. He touches the soft curve of his cheek. Will allows it, stiffly.</p><p>"I will," Hannibal echoes.</p><p>When he's eaten, Will sees a message from the cab service and rises, shouldering his bag. "I had better go."</p><p>"If you must. Thank you for your company, Will."</p><p>"Thanks for - the PTSD, I guess."</p><p>A reproachful look, at that. Will bats his lashes. Once again, the air between them takes on weight. He sees Hannibal look at his mouth, and smiles.</p><p>"Next Thursday?" Will says, pertly.</p><p>"Seven-thirty," Hannibal murmurs. "Have a good week."</p><p>Will picks up his bag and heads for the front door. As he reaches it, tension crawls up his spine: will he make it outside? It <em>shouldn't</em> be a question. Then a hand lands on his shoulder, and he jumps, but Hannibal only picks his wallet up off its place on a hall dresser.</p><p>"Your tip." He extracts bills, folds them over, hands them to Will. A sizeable wad. Barely able to conceal the shake in his hands, Will takes it quickly, murmurs his thanks, and slips quickly out the door.</p><p>He curls back into himself as soon as he hits the seat of the cab. His breaths come quicker for a second, hands coming up to his face. His fingers touch his lips. He's trembling, just faintly, mind racing. He's safe - maybe he was always safe - but he feels changed. Aware of how unsafe he could be. How being unsafe... didn't scare him like it perhaps should. It only made him feel more alive. And that strange sway he seemed to have over Hannibal...</p><p>It could be intoxicating, if he let it. He can't let it. He senses that would be a dark road. But Hannibal is a lovely lure, a bobbing lantern among the trees. Promising both warmth and light. Understanding, even.</p><p>Will cuts his gaze to the window, almost as if to divert from his own thoughts. The city flows by his windows. His mind flows to the basement beneath Hannibal Lecter's elegant townhouse.</p><p>A place of sterile truth, labyrinthian. An oubliette of savagery beneath the pristine facade, just like the man. Will wonders if he will make good on his promises – if soon, the Call-Girl killer will disappear forever. It's a very distracting thought; potentially a very dangerous one. For more than just the two of them.</p><p>Will sighs at the thought. He's not used to what he's feeling now. Some whirling current within, upheaving the still waters of his conscience, a circular drain pulling him to one destination. Something insidious at the center: Hannibal, red of eye and white of tooth. A smiling god of gentle death, inviting Will to be his acolyte. Will only has to decide to accept the invitation.</p><p>He suspects Hannibal is very patient, but knows he's not above manipulation. As it turns out, neither is Will. Perhaps he's not meant to be an acolyte after all. This, he knows, is a more dangerous line of thought. And yet no less seductive. With his eyes closed, and his heart tender, Will takes a deep breath and steps into the black water.</p>
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